Seize The Day
by Random523
Summary: Once, his Clan had ruled Vos. However, on a night cycle that remained burned into his memory, his Clan was murdered, the throne usurped, only he and his older brother surviving. Starscream lived through The War and into the lasting peace afterwards with one goal in mind, to become stronger, become skilled, and take back his home. M/SS. Will contain sticky slash. Post-war G1.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Um, ok so…this is my latest little undertaking and I hope that it doesn't completely bomb or anything like that.

This chapter basically just sets up the plot for what the rest of the fic will be about, and I hope I made it interesting enough even if it isn't _really_ all that self-explanatory.

There is a note at the end that will hopefully explain more about what the fic will involve, but I just wanted this chapter to set things up, and so it kind of stands alone. :)

* * *

Fire streaked through the palace like a great beast, writhing and undulating through the long white halls, burning and marring everything in its path as it went.

That night, Ata'hiori, the grand palace of Vos, the shining tower that stretched up to embrace the sky and light the city during every night-cycle like a beacon of hope and reassurance, went dark.

The fire raging through the many slick-tiled halls and opulent rooms was the only light to shine from the palace that night, its glow ominous and malevolent as it stretched up to engulf the high ceilings and expansive floors.

While any onlookers from neighboring towers or the surrounding air space may have been concerned about the flames, the inhabitants of the palace had much worse to concern themselves with.

A lone youngling raced through the dark, fiery halls, small thruster heels carrying him as fast as he could possibly run on his growing, awkward legs.

Laser fire soared over his helm in rapid shots, barely missing him as he turned a corner, thrusters sliding out from under him in a pool of liquid and sending him skidding onto his back. He screamed, his delicate wings bending underneath him and sending agony racing through his frame. He could hear mechs running down the hall after him, and quickly scrambled onto his hands and knees, ignoring the hard hit that his helm had taken on impact and the dazed feeling it left him with. His fear-ridden systems quickly chased the pain away, and he spared only a moment to look down at the liquid that had caused him to slip.

The orange glow of the surrounding fire put him off a little at first, but as he followed where the puddle trailed off to he quickly noticed another youngling lying mangled and offline against the wall.

His optic ridges furrowed, as if he had forgotten why he was even running upon seeing the decimated body, before he suddenly recognized one of his brothers through the horrendous damage. His optics widened as he looked into the familiar, horror-stricken face, and then stared back down at the liquid, spark beginning to pound even harder against its casing as the realization hit.

He screamed again, pushing himself to his pedes and willing his legs to move, sprinting once more down the hall in a desperate attempt to escape the same fate that his brother had.

His small hands shook as he scraped them along his body, trying desperately to wipe his brother's energon away, but only succeeding in scratching himself. The expression on his brother's face, the sheer terror and pain, those lifeless, black optics…

He didn't even notice that he was crying until coolant began to fog his vision, his optics becoming blurry and hard to see through. The thought never occurred to try and wipe the tears away, his processor was too stuck on the sounds of lasers and callous laughter echoing through the halls, the fire roaring in his audios, his brothers being picked off one by one. The hall became obscured and suddenly all he could make out was the heated light of the fire, in front of him, behind him, everywhere.

He heard more lasers behind him, a stinging shot racing by and grazing his side as he continued to run, faster and faster through the halls, guided by instinct alone.

The pain didn't register to him when he had been grazed, all he could think to do was run faster, to get away before he too was caught and killed. His spark was pulsing so fast that he swore he could hear it in his audios, pounding against his helm, whirling inside of him and threatening to explode at any second. And even though it hurt, even though he was so _tired_, he didn't stop running.

The mechs who were chasing him called out, yelling scathing words and threatening him with death in the most painful ways possible.

But he blocked them out, all he could think of was getting away. He had to run, had to escape, had to make it out of the palace, away from the fire, to safety, to his creators, his _sire!_

Scenes flew to the front of his processor of his sire, his chest plates blown apart and canopy shattered as a gaping, melting hole obscured what should have been his spark chamber. The normally calm and gentle face contorted into a mask of pain before his flickering optics fell onto him, mouth forming a single, silent word.

"_Run_."

So he ran.

More tears fell free from his optics, being wiped away by the hot air in the hall as he pushed himself forward, trying to escape his pursuers as much as he was trying to escape the awful images in his mind.

He could vaguely feel heat beneath his pedes, feel the fire as it burned into his delicate thrusters and lapped at his legs, scorching and damaging and dangerous.

He knew it must hurt, but at that moment he couldn't feel the pain, his body was numb, only the fear racing through his processor and the feeling of his spark pulsing rapidly in its chamber driving him ever onward.

There was suddenly the sound of a distant scream, terrified and pleading, before deafening laser fire once more rang out through the halls.

His hands flew to clutch at his canopy as another sibling bond erupted into agonizing nothingness, cut from existence by an all-too-early death.

He brought his hands to his optics, trying to wipe away the tears as best as he could before removing them and attempting to see where he was.

He was greeted with the sight of a high wall of fire, stretching up to the grand cathedral ceilings and burning fiercely.

However, before he could even think about stopping himself, his pedes caught something on the ground and sent him flying forward. He was catapulted through the flames and into the air, not even having the time to scream as he fell helm-first down one of the winding staircases of his home, intakes hitching and wings bending and scraping painfully as he tumbled, flipping over and over before he hit the hard floor in a heap.

His processor spun painfully as he laid there, agony replacing the numbness that had gripped him mere moments ago.

He shut his optics tight, groaning as he attempted to push himself up, only to fall to the floor again.

He was briefly aware of numerous streaks of violet energy as laser shots reigned down through the flames at the top of the stairs. However, voices soon followed, drifting airily down to him through the roaring cacophony of the fire.

"Leave him, he'll die from a fall like that even if none of our shots hit home." One of the mechs' deep voices snapped, warding the others from attempting to pass through the flames and check to see if the youngling was indeed offline.

He groaned again, optics trying to come into focus through the surrounding darkness.

He couldn't make out much, only knowing that this hall hadn't been completely decimated like the others.

The fire had yet to reach here, and neither had the intruders, apparently.

With no small amount of effort he managed to push himself to his hands and knees, struggling with the intense pain in his frame.

Images crossed his processor of his sire, cold and lifeless on the floor of his throne room…and his brothers, running and crying as those mechs – those _monsters_ – chased them through the halls of their own home. Torturing them, shooting them, stabbing them, tearing into them and tossing them to one another as if they were nothing more than lifeless drones that _deserved_ no better death than that.

He saw the blank, empty optics of the first of his brothers to die, staring at him, staring _into_ him as he cried and begged for mercy…begged for the pain to stop.

He shook his helm violently, hands digging into his own optics as tried desperately to rid himself of the image.

He forced himself to his pedes, legs shaking unsteadily and chassis heaving with powerful, silent sobs.

He had to keep moving, maybe if he looked around he could find a suitable place to hide and wait for someone to find him. Surely the royal guardsmechs would be here to save his family in a matter of kliks, then he would be safe and so would his brothers. Well, what was left of his brothers. He placed a hand gently on his canopy, feeling his strong, out of control spark pulse beneath and the warmth that radiated through the glass. He knew that he was still alive…but as he searched for the presence of his brothers all he received was sharp pricks of agony and blurred tendrils of fear. He didn't know how many had been killed…or how many were still alive.

As more tears welled up in his optics he began to walk unsteadily down the dark hall, trying to shake the horrible feelings in his spark as he went. He didn't take in the hall he was on, knowing that it was part of his home was enough, but the familiarity of it and where it led were lost to him at the moment.

His mind raced with the horrors that he had just narrowly escaped, and he allowed the darkness of the hallway to engulf him. He wandered blindly, bleeding, coolant filled optics not bothering to take in the lavish details of the untouched part of his home, maybe the only part of the palace that hadn't been gripped by the fire yet.

His thrusters echoed off of the walls of the huge, empty hall as he continued forward, processor drowning him in the horrific images of his family being massacred right in front of his optics while he ran…ran _faster_ than the others…

He wasn't sure when he had stopped walking, but somewhere in the back of his mind he had reminded himself that this particular hall wasn't very long, and his shaking legs had come to an abrupt halt. Ahead of him, the dark, silent hall finally ended, opening into a large, sparsely-furnished room whose doors were normally closed.

Tonight, however, the massive doors were opened. One of the ornate pieces of metal was stuck in its opening sequence, sliding silently back and forth a short distance, as if not being able to decide on remaining within its alcove in the wall or returning to its closed position halfway across the floor.

It was odd, and he felt a brief stab of uncertainty and fear as he watched the door, silently moving, in and out of the wall. It took a moment for him to remind himself that the door, though it was moving, could not hurt him. It, unlike the mechs who were trying to kill him, couldn't rise from its place on a set track. It couldn't chase him, and it certainly wouldn't try.

He noted briefly to himself that the rhythmic movement it was engaged in only happened when someone's hand slipped and mashed too many buttons on the access pad. The thought quickly escaped his mind though, it was of no importance at the moment…not with the other things plaguing him.

He stood shakily in the hall, staring with blurry optics into the familiarity of his creators' quarters beyond the fritzing door.

He had recharged here many nights before, being the youngest of his brothers and more prone to sudden frightening fluxes than them. He could always find comfort and safety in the arms of his creators, snuggled closely between them in the grand, impenetrable walls of their palace…well, he had always thought it was impenetrable, until now.

His pedes carried him forward on instinct, intending on taking him into safety and comfort of the room.

However, just as he started towards the opened doors, he noticed a dark figure lying still on the floor.

His spark skipped a beat in alarm upon noticing the heap, and he took a careful step back, preparing to run again if the thing decided to leap up and come after him.

He wouldn't have seen it at all if not for the dim light of Cybertron's surrounding stars shining in from the sweeping windows within his creators' quarters. Thankfully, it seemed that the windows were at least trying to help him tonight. The shining stars and dark blue-black of the space they were set in did wonders for his hurting optics, the light flowing through from the windows drifted lazily across his creators' quarters and filtered out into a small portion of the hall, at least illuminating whatever it was that was lying on the floor.

The grayness that the light provided and washed the hall with was much lighter in comparison to the shadowy, black form skulking on the floor, and his spark began leaping with uncertainty as he squinted at the thing, trying to distinguish what it was.

He couldn't see it very well, but he could tell that it wasn't moving…that at least at the moment it wasn't going to jump at him or attempt to chase him.

He wiped at his optics with the backs of his hands, trying to clarify his vision to investigate the figure further before he ventured into the safety of the quarters beyond it.

His intakes took in a large amount of the smokeless air, helping to defog his surroundings as he inched closer to the figure.

As he neared it, he could see certain details beginning to take shape on its body…long legs ending in elegant thruster heels…a pair of wings, one lying limply against the cold floor, the other jutting out off of its hosts frame…a dark, beautiful face, cheek plating pressed against the floor and expression slack…optics closed.

He wiped his optics again, spark beginning to pound even harder as he recognized the mech.

He ran to the still figure, falling to his knees as his hand flew to the mech's shoulder, shaking him softly.

His carrier didn't respond to his shaking. He just laid there, face devoid of any emotion, frame cold and unresponsive.

He shook him again, this time harder. "Wake up." He said, tears beginning to form in his optics again.

His carrier was laying on his side, unusual in and of itself seeing as how he knew it must be hurting his wings…but he didn't move, he didn't even stir in the least.

His processor began racing with so many different thoughts it almost hurt. He had found his carrier! He was going to be safe after all, and he didn't even need to wait for the guardsmechs to come. His carrier would protect him from the mechs upstairs, and then they could hide together in his creators' quarters, like any other night.

He could feel relief and happiness seeping through his taxed spark, calming him and reassuring him that everything was going to be ok. He was with his carrier, he had finally found someone that he loved and trusted who _hadn't_ been killed by the strangers who had invaded his home.

His carrier remained still though, even as a smile broke out onto his face and he pushed him a little harder. "Come on, wake up!" He laughed, jumping over his frame and pulling on his wing, "We have to go hide in your quarters, wake up!" He jumped back over to the older mech's face and smiled at him, expecting to see his carrier coming out of recharge and smiling sleepily back.

But the face that normally showered him with looks of love and affection remained emotionless and still.

Something was off about him tonight, and the youngling felt his smile beginning to fade, an uncertain and panicked frown taking its place.

He placed his hands back on his carrier's shoulder, shaking him again, even harder, "Wake up!" He cried, intakes beginning to cycle faster…he didn't understand, why wasn't he answering him? Surely he could hear him talking, could hear the concern in his voice…his carrier had never been a heavy sleeper.

He looked the mech's frame over, thinking that maybe the mechs from upstairs had been here, but could see no damage, there were no laser burns, no stab wounds, no ripped armor or torn off limbs…he was just recharging…he _had_ to be recharging.

He moved once again to the expressionless face, a small blue hand coming to rest on his carrier's cheek as carefully as possible.

He immediately took his hand back with a frightened gasp though, holding it against himself in confusion…he was so _cold_.

Spark pulsing fast and optics clouding over with more tears, he moved to push his cheek onto the cold one of his carrier's, nuzzling the larger mech as gently as possible, "Wake up…" He repeated, but this time his voice cracked, breathless and quiet as coolant tears streamed down his faceplate.

He moved down, giving another hopeful shake to his shoulder, "Please wake up…"

When he still received no answer he felt himself becoming more and more confused…more dazed…more panicked…

More hopeless.

He moved away from the mech, looking down the dark hall and thinking of calling out for help, for someone, _anyone_ to help him…but he knew that there was no one who would come to his aid, only the murderers upstairs who come and kill both him and his defenseless carrier.

He sniffed, trying to suppress the harsh sobs that rocked his chassis as he moved onto all fours, pushing himself under his carrier's arm and lying on the floor against his cold frame, staring into his blank, emotionless face.

He felt a small sense of security creeping into him with his carrier's arm draped over him, as if he were at least safe here, like he had been when they were recharging and he was held gently against the mech's canopy in a soft, caring embrace.

He resigned himself to the pains riddling his frame, the pain shooting through his spark and the monstrous images as they flared across his processor, reminding him of the danger and the horrors that were running rampant in his own home…the dangers that could come for him at any moment.

But he couldn't worry himself with it as a heavy blackness began to crawl across his processor, seeping into the thoughts and suffocating them until nothing remained except for the darkness and a simple, reassuring thought…If his carrier wouldn't wake up and escape with him, then he would remain here with him until he did. Safe in his arms.

His body gave into the freeing weightlessness, too exhausted and injured to fight off the powering down of his systems, and he sank helplessly into an uneasy recharge.

* * *

He awoke to the sound of someone coming down the hall, thruster heels echoing off the walls and ceiling loudly in the dark, desolate expanse.

His heavy optics opened partially, blurry and unfocused as he looked down the hall to where the sounds were coming from.

He didn't remember falling into recharge, and as a result his processor was sluggish and pained as he attempted to recall what had happened. He couldn't remember anything except for screams and fire, and then the soft reassurance of his carrier's arms.

As his optics came into focus he could hardly make out the figure of a mech staggering towards him in the darkness, the distant glow of fire illuminating the hall behind him.

He held something in his hand, bulky and long. Though it was pointed at the floor, if he squinted he could see soft violet light glowing ominously at its tip.

It was a blaster, he realized, as he tracked the mech's movements.

He shot out of his recharge-induced daze as soon as he noticed that the mech was headed towards him and his carrier, sitting up, his creator's arm still draped over his small frame, he shook the mech's shoulder again.

He didn't know what the stranger heading toward them wanted, but he knew that it wouldn't be good. The images and horrors of what had happened before he fell into recharge began to pour back into his mind, racing in front of his optics and turning the mech walking towards him into one of the smiling, burning figures of the murderers who had chased him down here.

He continued to shake his creator, alarm and terror causing his spark to begin pounding in its chamber again. "Wake up!" He shouted, panic flooding him, "Please, wake up!"

His carrier didn't move, still lying cold and unaware on the floor even as he shook him, pressing himself into his frame fervently.

The approaching mech stopped when he heard him cry out, silhouetted against the fire in the background and standing completely still. However, after a moment's pause, he dropped the blaster and ran forward, heading right for the youngling.

He screamed, fear spiking through him as he pressed himself as close as he could get to his carrier's frame, tears staining his cheeks.

As the mech drew closer at an alarming pace he bowed up, simultaneously baring his denta in a last attempt to ward off the oncoming threat. His frame was as flat against his carrier's as was possible, but even with the larger mech behind him he felt vulnerable and helpless.

The unknown mech stopped running and dropped to his knees, skidding to a halt in front of him and reaching out.

His optics widened in horror as the mech's hands grabbed him, wrapping around his small chassis and lifting him away from his carrier.

He screamed, images of what had happened to his brothers filling his processor and reminding him of what was about to happen to him.

He was going to die. This mech was going to kill him.

His body arched and turned and writhed, acting of its own accord in order to try and escape the firm grip that the mech had on him. He screamed again, voice high and shrill with terror. Surely his carrier would hear him crying, would hear the fear in his voice and wake up to defend him, to save him from the mech who was about to brutally offline him.

But as he screamed and squirmed, his optics still riveted to the motionless figure on the floor, his spark sank to realize that his carrier wasn't waking up at all…he couldn't hear him…

He was about to twist around and bite the mech before he could kill him when he found himself crushed against a canopy much larger than his own.

He was stunned into silence by the unexpected embrace, frame shivering as the previously firm grip of the powerful hands enveloping him loosened and were replaced by the mech's arms, holding him to him in a careful hug.

His intakes continued to cycle rapidly, spark still pounding painfully in his chest as he risked looking up.

He expected to see the wide, face-splitting grin and sharp dentas of the mechs upstairs, and cold, sparkless optics staring down at him.

What he didn't expect to see was a familiar face. He was immediately relieved, however, to see the face of his eldest brother looking down at him, the mech's own cheeks stained with tears, just like his were.

He let out a strangled sob and wrapped his small arms around his brother's chestplates, sagging against him and crying brokenly. He had thought the intruders had killed all of his brothers…it certainly felt like it.

The older mech's chassis hitched in a silent sob of his own, and he lifted the youngling up, cradling him gently against his canopy and kissing his helm repeatedly. "Thank Primus…" He said softly, voice hoarse and strained as he held back more tears. He kissed the youngling's helm fervently again, holding him tighter. "Thank Primus you're ok, Starscream…"

The small Seekerling managed to wipe his optics on his brother's armor, fighting his tears back long enough to point to their carrier. "Swiftwind, wh-why won't he wake up?" He asked, dented wings trembling in anxiety and confusion.

Swiftwind looked to the mech that was lying on the ground and a quiet keening sound escaped his vocalizer. He held Starscream more closely and rubbed the youngling's back soothingly, "He…he's not going to wake up, Star." He said as carefully as he could, before he abruptly stood up, pulling Starscream flush against his canopy and walking briefly back up the hall to grab the blaster that he had dropped.

Starscream stared at the weapon and then looked back to his carrier in uncertainty, "But…he has to wake up, right?" He asked. Everyone had to wake up some time or another…no mech could sleep forever.

Swiftwind looked into the wide crimson optics of his brother, gauging the confusion and innocence there, and promptly looked away. He looked back to their carrier, lying motionless on the floor, and dropped the blaster again. He wouldn't be needing it anymore.

His hands moved to hold his brother more tightly against his canopy, "Hold on to me, Star." He said quietly, "We have to get out of here."

He spared a quick glance to the fire that was cascading down the stairs and the muffled voices shouting angrily on the floor up above them, considerably _less_ voices, thanks to him. He then turned and began to run back towards their creators' quarters.

Starscream clutched the mech tightly, small hands refusing to let go as he saw the walls speeding by.

His brother ran by his carrier, who remained on the floor, and into the empty quarters.

Starscream thought he would stop then, but he only ran faster, not giving him enough time to even realize what was happening before the larger mech's powerful legs tensed, and his pedes left the ground.

For one surreal astrosecond, time slowed.

The shocking realization that he was weightless and airborne failed to register to him as he clung to his brother's frame, his dented and damaged wings failing to pick up the shift in airflow and altitude. Glass shattered around him, thin, reflective shards twirling and spinning in the frozen air as his creators' quarters got smaller and smaller…farther and farther away.

He had only a moment to be confused before gravity set in, jarring him out the surprised reverie he was in as he felt his brother plummeting to the ground hundreds of stories below them.

The thought occurred to him to scream, but Swiftwind had activated his thrusters and was speeding away from the burning palace as fast as he could manage before he could even open his mouth.

Starscream looked over his brother's shoulder as the cool night-cycle air enveloped and swept over them, staring at the diminishing form of Ata'hiori's spiraling towers silhouetted against the dark blue space of Vos' horizon.

His spark fluttered painfully at the thought of never seeing his home again…of his sire and brothers all offline and left alone…and of his carrier, lying abandoned on the cold floor with no one there to stay with him and protect him until he woke up.

He buried his face in his brother's neck, tears flowing freely as they escaped from the only life he had ever known.

* * *

He didn't know how long they had flown that night…he didn't really care to know…all he knew was that as soon as he felt his brother land, he felt his spark drop.

He lifted his face from where he had buried it in Swiftwind's neck cables and turned his helm to see what was going on.

A tall door greeted his sore optics and he felt himself becoming curious, looking around he noticed that his brother had not come down on a landing pad, but on the ground…

His optic ridges furrowed, processor beginning to wander through different parts of his imagination about what this strange, foreign place could possibly be. He knew there were no ground-level doors in Vos, what would anyone need a door to be so far down for? There weren't even ground-level _housing_ _units_ in Vos, no Seeker could possibly live so far down…so far from the sky.

His helm snapped around to take in his surroundings, and he quickly became aware of many housing units, all pressed side-by-side like one long building stretching off into the distance. It was quite possibly the strangest thing he had ever seen, and almost equally terrifying to what had just taken place in the palace.

His brother was standing on the entrance to one of the ground-level housing units, on a raised area directly off of the street that separated one side of housing units from the other.

The street in itself was horrifying. If he tried to focus his sore, stinging optics onto the dark metal of it, he could see black tire marks and scorches from low-power hover turbines. His processor almost locked up on him then…only groundlings used streets, and only groundlings had tires and low-power hover turbines…

His helm snapped back around to stare at the suspicious door his brother was standing in front of, and he found that he was more than just a little confused by the strange, groundling-like abodes. However, before he could even _begin_ to wrap his exhausted processor around where he could possibly be, the door shifted to the side and a mech stood standing in the entranceway with a surprised look on his face.

He narrowed his optics as light filtered out into the street, nearly blinding him in its intensity. He lifted his hand to his face, attempting to block some of the light when he heard the mech gasp.

His brother lifted him higher into his embrace, and the strange mech at the door invited them inside hurriedly.

Once inside the lights dimmed considerably, and Starscream's optics came into focus a bit too slowly for his liking.

He looked around as he was carried through the house, taking in every strange, blocky, angular detail of its architecture. It looked nothing like the sweeping aerodynamic curves of Vosian towers…

His brother followed the mech into a larger, more open room, before taking a hurried seat on equally blocky couch.

Starscream squirmed in his arms, trying to twist around to see the mech who had invited them in.

His brother sensed his unease and released his hold on him, allowing him to turn around and gaze out at the stranger with wide, tear-stained optics.

The mech took a seat in a chair opposite them, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees as he looked intently at Swiftwind. "What happened?" He asked suddenly, optic ridges furrowed in confusion and concern.

Starscream stared at the mech long and hard, taking in every detail of his frame with curiosity and wonderment. He had never seen a groundling before, and this mech was nothing like what he'd imagined one would look like.

He was of average height, with a slight frame and a pristine red and white paintjob. His helm was red and sported a white chevron, something he had also never seen. He had a rectangular glass plate on his chestplates where his canopy should have been, and was just as blocky and angular as his house was. Still, he was handsome for a groundling, Starscream supposed. His optics trekked over the mech's face, noticing the tight – but concerned – frown, the crystal blue optics, shining brightly as he took in both of their conditions.

Despite the fact that the mech had only two colors, Starscream found him very appealing to the optics…flashy almost, because of the way the two colors contrasted.

He sniffed and wiped at his optics a little, feeling some similarity to the mech because they at least had two colors in common…that had to count for something.

His brother shifted his legs, readjusting Starscream's position as he did, and began explaining things to the mech, who listened intently, his expression tight and optics locked onto the older Seeker.

"The palace...my family," The flier paused, looking down to Starscream, "_our_ family, was attacked by another Clan tonight." Another pause and he looked meaningfully at the mech, "I think you know why."

The groundling's optics shifted to the floor, a quiet "Primus" slipping from his vocalizer.

Swiftwind ignored him and continued, hand running over his brother's helm comfortingly, "I…_we_, we're the only survivors." He said, his voice shaky as his arms once again wound themselves around Starscream in a careful embrace.

The mech sitting across from them frowned more deeply, his optics hardening as he looked back in the direction of the door. "So you flew all the way…wait, you _two_ are the _only_ survivors?" He sounded shocked as he said this, a horrified expression appearing on his face as he jerked his helm back to look at Swiftwind. "But there were dozens of members in your Clan! What about your brothers, there were at least eight of –"

"_We_ are the only ones left!" Swiftwind shouted, cutting the mech off before he could get started on some disbelieving tirade.

The groundling fell quiet, face falling back into a frown, "I…apologize. It's just so hard to believe…" He said quietly.

Swiftwind shook his helm, frame trembling lightly as he tried to shake the same horrifying images that were plaguing Starscream from his processor. "I…I killed as many of them as I could…but there were just too many. They came from the fire and they…Primus Ratchet it was like something out of a bad flux…" He panted, optics shut tight and grip on Starscream tightening.

The ground mech leaned forward, looking at the young Seeker with concern, "Swiftwind, there's nothing more that you could have done." He attempted.

The flier shook his helm vigorously, tears beginning to fall from his shut optics again. "_All_ of them Ratchet! My brothers, my creators! M-my sire was killed right in front of all of us, and my carrier –"

At the mentioning of their carrier Starscream couldn't help but speak up, he looked up to his brother, optic ridges furrowing in confusion. "But Swifty…he was just in recharge! We can still go back, we can –"

"He _wasn't_ in recharge Starscream, he was offline!" Swiftwind yelled a little more harshly than he meant to. Starscream flinched in his lap, optics welling up with coolant and bent wings flattening against his back. The older Seeker sighed sorrowfully, reaching down to cup his brother's chin gently before continuing, "When those sick fraggers murdered sire…the bond, it killed our carrier too…"

Starscream stared at him, optics wide and disbelieving, there was no way his carrier was dead…he was just recharging, there wasn't anything wrong with him. He was alive, they could still go back and find him…they could save him…he wasn't offline…he _wasn't_.

Ratchet gave the older a Seeker a look, "He's too young to understand the mechanics of a bond, Swiftwind…" He told him, but quickly turned his attention to the Seekerling.

Starscream's small frame began to tremble violently, a crushing emptiness gripping his spark as he searched it franticly for his creator-sparkling bond, knowing he wouldn't find his sire's, but if he searched hard enough he knew he could still feel his carrier's presence.

When he felt nothing he looked down, staring blankly into the glass of his brother's canopy, looking at his own scuffed, energon-covered reflection.

Quiet, keening whines left his vocalizer, and he stared, all of the horrific images from the palace being pushed to the forefront of his processor. His brothers, mangled and bleeding, his sire with a hole blown through his chestplates…his carrier lying dead on the cold, unforgiving floor in the dark…alone.

He looked at his own small hands, covered in energon and peeling paint, burnt from the fires. His carrier wouldn't wake up when he shook him…because he was dead. He had curled up next to him…sought safety and warmth and comfort…from his _dead_ carrier.

His spark clenched in on itself painfully, a horrified scream leaving him as he realized that aside from Swiftwind, he was completely and utterly _alone_.

He cried and clung to his brother, tears flowing down his cheeks as his small chassis hitched and jerked.

Swiftwind looked down at his brother with a terrified expression, not knowing how to help him or what to do. He looked quickly to Ratchet for assistance, who rose from his chair and walked over to them, squatting in front of Swiftwind and reaching to press a hand gently to the space between Starscream's tiny wings.

The youngling continued crying, but his trembling considerably lessened, his damaged wings fanning out to allow Ratchet more access.

The ground mech looked to Swiftwind worriedly, "It will take some time before the pain from the severed bonds will pass…but he's been through so much trauma tonight I don't know how it will affect him…" He told the Seeker, never pausing in his gentle ministrations to the distressed youngling in his lap.

Swiftwind nodded and took in his brother's damage, "Do you think you can repair him...?" He asked, gently lifting the crying Seekerling and handing him to a surprised Ratchet.

The medic stood and rocked Starscream carefully against his chestplates, the little flier never once bothering to notice that he was no longer in his brother's grasp.

He looked at Swiftwind with an uncertain expression as the older Seeker stood also, "Of course I can repair him…but I mean why did you –"

The medic was unable to finish his question as Swiftwind grabbed his shoulders, looking into his optics with such pain that it nearly caused the mech to flinch. "Ratchet, you've been studying Seeker physiology at the palace for vorns now…you know how to deal with him…how to care for him."

The medic froze, his processor almost stalling at what Swiftwind was hinting at. "No! No, no, no, there is no way I'm going to –"

"Ratchet please! He won't be safe with me! They _know_ that I'm not dead, they'll come looking for me, and if they find me they won't hesitate to kill him too!" He shouted, crimson optics searching blue desperately, knowing that Ratchet wasn't sparkless enough to throw a helpless youngling out onto the street knowing that he would be hunted and most likely murdered like the rest of his Clan.

The medic held his gaze for a klik or two before sighing, he looked to the crying youngling in his arms and went to sit back down, processor heavy with the burden he was about to undertake . It was true that he had been studying the Seekers for vorns now, but Starscream was only a few vorns old himself…he had never personally seen the youngling, or many of Swiftwind's brothers for that matter…but he supposed he knew enough to take care of him…at least he hoped he did.

"Alright…but he's barely out of his sparkling years Swiftwind, how am I supposed to teach him to fly, or about Trines or heat or Vosian history or any of _that_?" He asked, attempting to keep his voice low.

Swiftwind looked to his brother as he cried, curled up against the medic's windshield. His spark clenched in on itself painfully at the thought of leaving the only family he had left…but it had to be done…it was better that he leave Starscream with a groundling than taking the chance on him being killed too.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked away from the medic, "He already knows how to fly, he's a natural…the need to form a Trine bond is instinctual, but about the heat cycle and all the talks that come along with that and maturity, I don't know. Starscream was sparked with submissive programming so I _wouldn't_ know, really. I mean I wasn't, neither were any of our other brothers. The only mech that would've been able to have that talk with him was our carrier…" He attempted to explain, though he faltered.

Ratchet gave him an incredulous look and he shifted uneasily, "He knows a lot about Vos already, at least…maybe he already knows about all that."

Ratchet sighed again, holding the small flier and caressing his wings gently as he thought. "Primus…I mean me and 'Jack have thought about having sparklings before but not _now_. Not a Seeker definitely." His expression was doubtful, and Swiftwind almost looked as if he were going to faint.

"Ratchet please…he's so small, there's no way he'd be able to defend himself if they found me. He's a good youngling I promise, he's smart as a whip, he's playful, he's a whiz at science, you like science, right? Ratchet please…I don't want to see him die…" He pleaded softly, looking at the gradually tiring youngling in the medic's arms and feeling his spark clenching painfully as different scenes of the small flier being tortured and murdered played out in his mind.

Starscream's crying was beginning to taper off slowly, silent tears flowing down his cheeks as his optics began to drift shut, his helm resting gently against Ratchet's windshield.

The ground mech looked down at him too, and couldn't help the feelings of pity and possessiveness that gripped his spark. He knew that Starscream wouldn't be safe if Swiftwind did indeed get chased down by the mechs who had attacked his Clan, and he couldn't stand the thought of the youngling being tortured and killed so ruthlessly.

He sighed and shook his helm, a processor ache beginning to set in quickly. "Alright…alright. I'll keep him Swift, but when will you be back?" He asked.

Swiftwind froze up, his wings lowering slowly and his face falling into a dejected frown. "Ratchet…I won't be back. It won't be _safe_ for me to come back."

Though there was an initial pause and hard look of disbelief at that statement, the medic nodded slowly and rocked the now-sleeping Starscream gently in his arms, "I…understand. I suppose it also wouldn't be safe to know where you're going…" He paused and shook his helm again, still not believing that he was doing this. "He'll be safe with me, Swiftwind. I promise you." Ratchet's tone was far from happy, but he wasn't going to berate the Seeker for something that was out of his control.

Swiftwind stepped closer and leaned over to gently kiss Starscream's helm, tears falling from his optics as he looked at his brother for the last time, "Be good for him, little prince." He said quietly, gaze dim and sad as he prepared to leave. He looked up at Ratchet with a serious countenance, passing a life cycle's worth of thanks to the medic in those few brief seconds, before turning and heading for the door.

Ratchet didn't stop him, he simply sat in his chair, his spark heavy with the knowledge that the entire Clan of mechs who had _trusted_ him enough to come into a city that was off limits to groundlings, was now dead.

He had befriended them, to the major objections of almost every flier in the city, and they had allowed him to learn about their physiology in order to advance medical knowledge of the Seeker frame type. It had been an honest endeavor, just to further his medical expertise in the case that a Seeker might _actually_ ever need his help, or the help of any medic outside of Vos…but it loomed in the back of his processor that his presence there may have been what had caused the attack on its ruling Clan.

He held Starscream close, looking at the injured, energon-covered youngling in sadness and disbelief. To think that this may have been caused because of him…it was no secret to both him and Vos' high king that other Clans didn't want a groundling within the protective walls of their city, there had been numerous threats and pleas to make him stay out. But Windcaller, Starscream's sire, thought that it wasn't a problem to allow Ratchet to study his family…to learn all he could about Seekers. He considered Ratchet a friend, just as much as Ratchet considered him one as well, and so the medic had been allowed to come and go as he pleased…with the help of a flight-capable transport to reach Ata'hiori and vice versa, of course, but the Senate had provided him with the credits in order to learn what he could and pass the knowledge into many published works for any medic or scholar on Cybertron to read.

In hindsight he wished he would have just stayed out…while the things he learned were monumental and groundbreaking as far as medical and physical knowledge of Seekers was concerned, it was not worth the lives that had been lost because of it.

To think that the attack against the royal family had been from another Clan that was angry about the high king allowing a groundling into their city, seeing him as weak because of it, because of his decision…it was sparkbreaking.

He cradled the sleeping youngling in his arms closer, looking at his exhausted, tear-stained face with a sadness that he had never felt before. He knew now that he was obligated to keep the youngling and care for him…but he couldn't bring himself to feel burdened by it. It would be the _least_ he could do after everything he had caused.

He stood from his chair and walked through his house, making his way to his quarters and lying down on his berth with his back to his mate, Starscream still held gently in his arms.

Wheeljack stirred beside him and sat up, the mech's face mask was retracted and he frowned as he noticed Ratchet's huddled position.

"Who was that you were talking to?" He asked, placing a hand on his bondmate's shoulder worriedly.

Ratchet held Starscream closer to his frame and mumbled tiredly, "I'll explain everything in the morning 'Jack, just get some rest." He didn't really know _how_ he was going to explain everything to his mate, especially about the fact that they now had a youngling to take care of, but he was far too stressed to worry about it now.

Wheeljack's frown deepened at that, but he knew not to press Ratchet when the mech didn't want to talk. He laid back down and drifted back into recharge without another thought on the matter.

Ratchet didn't sleep at all that night, his optics never leaving the recharging youngling curled against his frame.

Deep in an uneasy sleep, Starscream's mind continued to plague him with the horrors that the night had brought him, oblivious to his new home or the trials that life would bring with it as he grew older. The only thing that he knew at that moment, deep down in his spark, was that one day he would return to Vos, and he would take Ata'hiori back from the mechs who had murdered his family.

He would have revenge for his sire, for his brothers, and for his carrier, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

He would have _revenge_.

* * *

**A/N:** Phew.

Ok! So, this was harder to write than I had expected it to be, probably because it was just setting up for the what the plot of this fic is going to be about, but it really _was_ a monster to tame.

I don't really like how it turned out, but I could do nothing more to it so…meh.

Basically this fic will be a post-war, Starscream-centric kind of thing, which focuses on him taking back Vos in the name of his Clan and ousting the rival Clan who took over when he was a youngling.

Now, this _is_ a slash fic, and it will contain sticky smut and explicit moments so if you're not into that, then scurry away from here! Go on, shoo, this is no place for your innocent eyes.

It _will_ be a Megatron/Starscream fic, but with a twist! There will be some Optimus and Starscream moments to add drama and a spicy little love triangle, because even though M/SS is my all-time favorite pairing, I absolutely _love_ for Optimus and Starscream to be paired together too, and I firmly believe that there aren't enough fics out there with them.

Again, just as a reminder, this _will_ be a post-war fic, so I guess it could be called G1 AU? There will be little hints of "Megatron: Origins" so if you haven't read that then look up some pictures of Megatron from that series on DeviantArt or Google Images because _oh_ _my_ _Primus_ he is one sexy mech in those comics…I especially love those plates under the miner's helmet that look like a crown, and yes that is the appearance he will be taking in this fic…it's just my personal preference…sorry. o/o

Anyways, this thought actually came to me from an anon-prompt, and all it said was to take your favorite characters from any show/cartoon and incorporate them into Mufasa's death scene from "The Lion King."

Well, I tried that and what I ended up with was Starscream's entire family being murdered in a violent coup by another Clan and him and his only surviving brother being forced to flee their home in the dead of night…yeah, but the whole scene with Starscream and his carrier was Lion-King-ish, right? I hope… =(

Anyways, there won't be any more bits with youngling Starscream because the fic from here on out will mainly be about him on post-war Cybertron coming up with a plan and taking back Vos from the aftholes who slaughtered his family. That part I came up with myself…no Lion King needed.

Oh and you can thank my late-night wanderings on the internet and my iPod for coming up with the whole 'Ratchet and Wheeljack raising little orphan Starscream' idea. I do like the pairing and while listening to Shake It Out by Florence and The Machine I had the weirdest idea to make all that happen, one, because I love Ratchet, and two…well, Wheeljack _is_ a scientist/engineer, who better for Starscream to take an interest in science from? Well, minus the explosions…

Anyways I'm incredibly sorry for the horrendously long note here but I just wanted to tell you those things so that you wouldn't be all confused and wandering blindly into suddenly-adult Starscream's life in the next chapter and the others to come…so yeah.

Sorry. =(


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hi everyone, sorry for the wait but college is a beast and I hardly have enough time to tame both it and everything else that I want to get done. ;A;

Anyways, here's an update! Yay second chapter!

By the way, I mention increments of time in this chapter and most likely will continue using them throughout the fic, so I'm just going to list them below. I'm not sure if they're completely accurate but to some extent they're useful so…yeah…sorry in advance if I messed any of them up.

Klik- Cybertronian minute

Joor- Cybertronian hour

Cycle- Cybertronian day

Decacycle- 10 cycles, but equivalent to a Cybertronian week just for the purposes of this fic :/

Orn- Cybertronian month

Vorn- um…a really long time? I guess…maybe…meh, we'll just let that be vague.

Meta (or meta-cycle)- Cybertronian year

Um…yes. Anyways, those are the times, at least in this fic, I'm not saying they're accurate or cannon but I at least some kind of time period that seemed relatable or understandable soooo…

Anyways! I do have a new policy that I started with my last fic about replying to reviewers in the order they reviewed so here I go! :)

**Deezaster82:** First! Thank you very much for your review! I'm glad that you think this is turning out to be promising so far! C:

**peppymint: **You're writing a prince fic? *spazzles* Huzzah! I love prince fics! I'm planning on writing a pre-war fic with Starscream after I finish this one! If you wrote yours I'd be glad to read it! And thank you very much for your review!

**VyxenSkye:** I'm so sorry! ;A; It wasn't my intention to make you cry! Thank you for your review…*sniffle*

**tiedwithribbons:** Dear Primus…your review made me so happy I just…I mean…holy spazzing scraplets in a skyscraper I don't know what to say! I…I love you!

**DemonSurfer:** YOU! Oh you! Your reviews make me so happy, and I thank you for coming to this new fic and reviewing it…because you know...you're pretty cool! And yes I do like to give some emotions to Megabrick (love how you put that by the way, made me laugh) while still making him seem like an afthole. Thanks so much for your feedback! =)

**Kcx:** I know…it's sad…but thank you for your review! It will get better! I promise!

**fan girl 666:** Aw thank you! And thanks for your review!

**IridescentMemory:** So many feels about your review…it was so nice! =) Thank you for your review so much, it makes me so happy to know that you like it, and, I have been thinking about writing a little one shot with Starscream as a youngling after Wheeljack and Ratchet took him in. I've been adding little bits and pieces to it in my free time and hopefully sometime soon I'll be able to post it!

**Chibi Oro:** Yay! Thank you for your review! And yes Swiftwind will come into play later in the fic, and about little Starscream I have been thinking of writing a one shot to sort of coincide with this and it may be posted at a later date!

**The-writing-Mew:** Starscream will explain in the next chapter about his choice in becoming a Decepticon, and thankfully Swiftwind isn't dead! =) Thank you so much for your review, as always I love hearing from you!

**angelcakes19:** Believe it or not when I wrote the first chapter I was listening to Once Upon a December from the movie Anastasia! I love that song and it just inspired me! Thank you so much for your review, I'm glad that you like the fic so far!

**LadyBonBon:** B-but I can't follow commands! I'm ADHD! Authority of any kind makes me spazz and then I have to run around in circles and climb up walls and jump off buildings and punch squirrels and…ok well I don't have to do any of those things…but as much as I would love following your command m'lady, alas I am much too lazy to get things done in a timely fashion. *sigh* But I'll try to update as quickly as possible! Swear on my spark! And thank you so much for your review!

**6MissSparklez9:** Megatron will be coming into the fic very soon! And while he's not the murderer he's still an afthole, haha! But, he's an afthole that Starscream will fall in love with sooo…oops, it appears I've said too much! Silly me! Thank you for your review! =)

* * *

When The War had ended, there had been no violence.

Instead, peace had come about by way of the pathetic fleshlings and their dying, energy-sapped planet.

The little organic mud-ball had suffered greatly during the centuries since both armies had crash-landed on its primitive surface, having been stripped of nearly all of its natural resources and energy-rich substances. It was dying, and all of its inhabitants had panicked.

Because of the lack of energy, both opposing forces had suffered a great deal, Autobots and Decepticons alike were starving, injured and running the risk of cannibalizing their weaker comrades for spare parts and what little energon they could siphon. Megatron had been too much of a fool to realize that continuing a pointless war when all of his soldiers were nearly deactivated from hunger alone was a vain effort, and yet still he had harassed the Autobots, had goaded them on…

It had taken a stroke of genius from Starscream, as weak and famished as he had been, to pool the last of his lab equipment into a semi-functioning little machine that could sap energy from the Earth's atmosphere and transmute it into energon. At first, he had kept the machine hidden; only using it to keep his Trine and himself alive. But as he had refined the machine, tweaked it with bits of his own armor that he had ripped and broken off, he was able to make it absorb more, and output more. It hadn't taken long before he had made a fully functional energon converter, and it had taken an even shorter amount of time before he realized what had to be done with it.

Starscream had been used to being called a traitor, he deserved the title and didn't deny it, but what he had done to help end The War had been more than just treachery. He had betrayed everything he stood for, deserted the faction for which he had devoted his life, and he had _defected_.

Megatron had been far too stubborn to heed Optimus Prime's pleas for an end to the senseless fighting, and if he had found out about the converter then he would have taken it for his own uses. Starscream was no fool, despite what every mech thought. He had gone to the only mech who would listen, the only mech who would help; he had sought out Optimus Prime, and he had offered him the converter on one condition. Optimus Prime was to use the converter to rejuvenate his army, repair his ship, and to make the journey back to Cybertron.

Though dumbfounded at first, the Prime had made the right decision.

Starscream had had to force himself to think of nothing other than ending The War, not his Trine, not his no-doubt furious leader, not even what would happen if he were caught by his former faction or if the plan he and Optimus Prime came up with failed…Starscream had no more time for a never-ending war, he had wasted enough of his short life cycle slaving away in the ranks of an army that treated him like slag, and he had refused to tolerate it any longer. Somewhere on Cybertron his brother was still alive and in hiding, and a _murderer_ sat upon the throne of Vos.

And Starscream was finally going to have his vengeance.

Within the _Ark_ Starscream had regained the trust of Skyfire, and had quickly gained forgiveness from his surrogate sire, Wheeljack, and with the two of them had created a chain of massive converters. Unlike his smaller converter, the larger ones were capable of tapping into parallel dimensions and distant black holes to feed off of the energy there and convert it into the purest form of energon possible. With the converters Cybertron would be restored.

It hadn't taken but a few earthen months to complete the repairs on the _Ark_, and once the ship was space ready, so too were the converters and their purpose.

Starscream had expected to leave then, for Optimus Prime and his army to flee the dying planet and leave Megatron and his ever-dwindling forces to deactivate on the disgusting ball of dirt, trapped in a sunken ship with nowhere to go.

However, he had been surprised when the Prime had approached him and presented him with his thoughts on helping his enemy. It had been Starscream's turn to be dumbfounded then. Nevertheless, the thought of his Trine dying because of their own stubbornness at remaining with Megatron had not been sitting well with him, and so he had reluctantly agreed.

However, he had had no part in actually contacting and speaking to his former leader.

Optimus Prime had done the talking, and Starscream had remained in the background, wanting no part of the video feed and the discussion that had taken place between the two leaders.

In the end, Megatron had begrudgingly accepted Optimus Prime's offer for help, and had declared a temporary ceasefire. Starscream, Skyfire and the Aerialbots had transported one of the converters to the _Nemesis_ so that the Constructicons could repair the broken spaceship and make it space-worthy again. He had seen Megatron then, but only at a glance, and before his former leader could even approach him Skyfire had intervened. Starscream had seen his Trine as well, and neither appeared to be too happy with him, and so he had remained in the background, overseeing the installation of the converter with Skyfire as his constant vigil.

It hadn't taken long for the Constructicons to manage enough competence to do a satisfactory patch-job on the _Nemesis_, and once the vessel was flight-ready both factions had departed the withering organic planet and its bad memories.

Starscream's elation at finally being able to go home, to see an end to the pointless war, was firmly overshadowed by the daunting task that lay ahead of him.

Upon return, he had to kill the very Clan who had massacred his family all those vorns ago…and with seemingly no help.

His Trine had turned their backs on him, and any friends he may have had amongst the Decepticons would surely rather see him offline than ever come to his aid, even for a cause as noble as avenging one's family.

But he had endured the plaguing thoughts, and indeed he had done it in stride.

When the two ships had arrived back on Cybertron, Optimus Prime had proposed a meeting to discuss the concept of a lasting peace. Starscream had become like the mech's shadow since his time on the _Ark_, but even he had scoffed at the idea. 'Megatron' and 'peace' just didn't seem to factor into the same sentence correctly.

He had been thoroughly surprised, however, when Megatron had agreed to meet with Prime and discuss the conditions on which a lasting peace could be made.

Starscream, in the meantime, had wasted no time on assigning groups of mechs to transport the converters to numerous places on Cybertron. He had the massive machines set up in Iacon, Praxus, Nova Cronum, Altihex, Tyger Pax, Delta-I, the ruins of Crystal City, and even Kaon. With the converters in place and the rejuvenation of the planet under way and succeeding at a startlingly rapid pace, Starscream had quickly found himself being called a hero by the faction he had defected to. The fact that he now had friends who adored him meant nothing, though.

His processor raced with thoughts Vos, and nothing else.

In the time before the peace councils were to take place, Optimus Prime had offered Starscream refuge with him, and having become rather close to the mech, Starscream had accepted. He couldn't remember how long he had stayed with Optimus, but it had seemed like an eternity. The older mech was good to him, and Starscream had quickly realized that he was growing rather attached to him, but his spark had been so conflicted with so many different emotions that he had never mentioned any kind of sentiments he may have held, and neither had Prime.

When it had finally come time to discuss a lasting peace, the two leaders and their most trusted officers had gathered in the Decagon in Iacon, a grand, ancient building full of history and wisdom.

Optimus had brought along his Second-In-Command, Prowl, as well as Ironhide, Jazz, and Starscream. The Seeker had no apparent reason to be at the council, but Optimus had insisted on having him by his side, for advice if nothing else. The Seeker had grudgingly followed his house-mate and taken a seat by his side at the negotiating table.

Megatron had brought only Soundwave and Shockwave, his two most loyal and sycophantic _pets_. Starscream had felt himself bristle just at laying optics on them, his wings had hiked high on his back and his expression had schooled itself into something that radiated with cold disdain. Both of the opposing mechs had paid him no heed initially, nor had Megatron, who had taken his seat across the table without so much as a glance in the Seeker's direction.

That had ended rather quickly when Optimus had taken his hand and placed it on Starscream's wing, attempting to calm the Seeker before his temper got the best of him.

Megatron had narrowed his optics at Prime, and had then turned his steely gaze onto Starscream, fixing the Seeker with a look that practically dripped with acidity. But still, he had said nothing.

Optimus began the negotiations with an explanation. The Senate had been killed at the beginning of the war, by Megatron and his at-the-time fledgling army, no less, and with the High Council in hiding and the caste-system abolished, that left Prime to rule the planet, as was his sovereign right.

Megatron had surged to his pedes in rage at that, but before he could erupt into some hate-filled tirade, Optimus had placated him with no more than the simple gesture of holding his hands up for silence.

Megatron glared balefully at him, but he had said no more.

Optimus went on to explain that he had no wish for past events repeating themselves, and that he didn't have the resources or popularity needed amongst the southern city-states to gain their favor enough to rule them. And so, the Prime had then done something completely unexpected.

He had offered Megatron the entire southern hemisphere of Cybertron.

The warlord had said nothing at first, obviously just as stunned as everyone else in the room. Surprisingly, it had been Prowl who spoke up first. He had beseeched his leader to think of something else to offer Megatron, and warned him against allowing the Decepticon leader control over half the planet. Starscream had agreed with Prowl when the black and white mech had advised his leader not to allow Megatron to go free, let alone allow him to control the entire southern hemisphere. Starscream knew that Megatron was nothing but a war-mongering, power hungry tyrant, no amount of peace or offered rule would ever keep him from trying to seize more power in time.

However, despite his and Prowl's numerous outbursts, Optimus would have none of it, he was far too tired of war to deny Megatron what had started all of the fighting in the first place. He let Megatron have the Badlands, let him take the states there and reform them and the haggard people that inhabited them, let him make things better – if he could – with no class prejudices and no higher powers to try and put him down.

Though he attempted to argue his point more, Optimus had silenced him with another soothing caress to his wing. He knew that the Prime wouldn't listen to him, and so he had quieted himself and glanced across the table, taking in the stern looks of disgust and betrayal he found there.

At that Starscream had left, he hadn't wanted to endure the glares that his leader was sending him due to his support of Prime. He had waited outside the conference room for everything to end, waited for the inevitable fight to break out and for one of the two leaders within the room to be brought out in pieces…but that hadn't happened.

As he had been pacing in front of the expansive windows that lined the massive hall of the top floor of the Decagon, he had heard the doors of the conference room slide open.

He had stopped his nervous pacing immediately, expecting to see that someone had been hurt or killed, only to be met with Megatron's imposing figure exiting the room. Shockwave and Soundwave followed behind him like the loyal drones they were.

He had turned away from his former leader, staring out of the expansive window and into the stars over the horizon of Iacon, anywhere but at Megatron. He heard the tell-tale sounds of pedes moving down the hall, of mechs rounding a corner and of silence, and when he thought he was alone again, he had turned away from the window.

What had greeted him had not been an empty hall, though; instead he had found himself face-to-face with Megatron.

The larger mech had moved closer to him, so close in fact that Starscream could feel the mech's chestplates rising and falling against his canopy with every intake. He had been far too stunned to move, and whether it had been fear that had prevented him from saying something or simple confusion, he did not know.

After a klik of silence had passed between them Starscream broke out of whatever dazed stupor he had been in, he had attempted to push away from Megatron, but the larger mech simply moved with him. Starscream had raised his hand to strike his former leader, but the warlord had quickly caught him by the wrist, wrenching his arm up painfully.

Starscream hadn't been able to think of anything to do besides wait for the inevitable to happen, he knew that Megatron was going to kill him for betraying him this time, and trapped against the mech in such a way, there hadn't been anything he could have done to defend himself.

His spark had seized up in its chamber, his optics wide and fearful. But, what had happened then was far from anything Starscream had been expecting.

Megatron had released him; his grip had slowly loosened around Starscream's wrist until the Seeker's small hand had slid into his own larger one, where he had very briefly allowed it to stay.

Their optics had locked for a few astroseconds that felt like eternity, and Starscream had found himself looking into a maelstrom of turbulent, unknown and cryptic emotions. He had noticed for the smallest of seconds that there was no hate in Megatron's optics…no disdain aimed towards him.

But the moment had lasted for far too short of a time.

Megatron had soon turned away; he had released Starscream's hand and walked off, stopping at the end of the hall. He had given the Seeker a look that was disappointed and disbelieving and angry and…_expectant_.

His optics burned with something that was far from the animosity that Starscream was used to, and it had sent involuntary shudders all the way up his spinal relays. He hadn't been able to hold Megatron's gaze, not able to endure the look in his former leader's optics.

He had heard the mech move off, his heavy pede-falls echoing as he left the Seeker standing there, and Starscream had vaguely felt his spark constrict at the thought that that was the last time he would ever see Megatron…

It had been many vorns since that cycle, and Starscream had burned many bridges within the former Decepticon army now turned empire.

His Trine had went to Kaon with the rest of Megatron's soldiers, and he had turned his back on the lot of them…he tried to justify it by saying that he couldn't afford another war…that he wouldn't fall into something like that again, that he had to focus on taking back his _home_.

He had fallen for Megatron once, and it had gotten him dragged into a – at one point – never-ending war. And after so many beatings, derisive arguments and failures within those uncountable eons, there was no way he was going to follow Megatron and let it happen again.

He had sworn to himself that he would never again allow another mech to distract him from taking back his home…however, as Starscream woke from a less-than-peaceful recharge with the searing, unknown, _unidentifiable_ gaze of his former leader plastered to his mind, he knew he had failed in that endeavor.

The Seeker stared at his surroundings for an intense klik after the unexpected wakeup, a part of him trying desperately to piece the spacious quarters of his luxurious skyline apartment together as he collected his thoughts.

In front of him spanned a large table littered with datapads and half-formed plans, all of them scrapped or left unattended to in the wake of some failure or revelation he had had before he could complete them.

He sat up, his wings feeling heavy on his back and his neck cables protesting because of the uncomfortable crick he had given himself from falling asleep at the table instead of his berth – _again_.

He didn't know how many cycles he had been locked away in his apartment, pouring over plans and trying desperately to come up with some semblance of one that would work.

Recharge never came peacefully anymore, and when it did it was more out of exhausted necessity than anything else. Starscream checked his chronometer absentmindedly for the first time in what felt like forever, noticing that he couldn't have been asleep long…after all, it was early in the morning cycle and he had just been tweaking a good plan around midnight.

It was dark in his quarters; the only light being filtered in was from the bounty of stars shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up an entire wall of the room. It didn't bother him though, his optics had long since adjusted to living in the dim lighting, and if anything the darkness only reflected his ever-worsening mood.

The Seeker sighed then, at a loss at what to do. He attempted to push himself out of the chair he had been recharging in, his joints creaked and protested and for a split second he felt as if his legs would give out on him. However, he made it to his pedes without too much of a struggle.

He stood with his hands on the table, stooped over it as his processor raced and his body ached from the position he had been in. The physical discomfort meant little to him anymore, but it wasn't beyond noticeable. He ignored it as best he could, though, his thoughts soon focusing on the same thing that he had been obsessively clinging onto for the past few vorns now. _Vos_.

Every plan he had come up with so far didn't factor in his favor, and he knew it. It was so frustrating to think that he had come so far only to hit a snag _now_. He was a powerful mech, perhaps not in the sense of physical strength, but his wits and skill made up for all the brawn he lacked. He had made it through The War with only his intelligence, cunning and skill to keep him alive, and he had felled many a mech in that time without ever having to face them in hand-to-hand combat. But he knew that if he was to take back his home, more than just his tenacity would be needed.

In Ata'hiori there would be no large, open space for him to fly to and avoid his opponent; both he and the mech who had murdered his sire would be forced to face each other closely. And as if that wasn't a frightening enough prospect, there would be others there too. Others who would fight to defend their Winglord and his stolen throne.

And, no matter how many times Starscream had tried to work that detail out, tried to find a way around it or mould some kind of solution, he couldn't come up with any odds in his favor. In fact, every situation his numbers ended with pointed to his demise.

He hissed scornfully at the datapad he had been working on before recharge had taken him, seeing that it was going in the same direction as the others. He attempted to wrack his processor for a solution, but kept coming up with nothing but a pitiful attempt for vengeance that would end with his death…he snapped then, all of the turmoil and frustration in his spark breaking free and spurring him into action.

He screamed, picking up the datapad and throwing it as hard as he could towards the open door of his quarters.

The datapad flew from the room and into the next, disappearing from sight and leaving Starscream to stand over the table vehemently panting.

_Why_ was nothing _working?_

_Why_ couldn't he figure this out?

What was he doing _wrong?_

He knew he was alone in this, but surely there was _something_ he could do…something that wouldn't end in failure…he couldn't let that murderer get away with what he'd done.

The Seeker's spark fluttered madly in its chamber, only adding to his anger. He shouldn't _have_ to be alone. He had attempted to find his brother before, but because of how much time they had been apart and how young he was when they had separated, their sibling bond had grown too faint to contact him…and Starscream could hardly remember what he looked like…let alone where to even _begin_ searching for him.

He wanted to find him, though. He wanted to see him again and tell him that the time had come for them to take back what was stolen from them all those eons ago…he wondered what his brother would think of him if he saw him now, or what he would think of his brother.

Starscream felt himself becoming even more frustrated when he thought of the older Seeker, the mech that he knew so well…yet didn't know at all. Whenever he had had to visit some of the cities that his converters were set up in to oversee installations or upgrades, he had made special trips to out-of-the-way places within them to ask questions. He had gone into seedy bars, local clubs, shelters and even a few arenas looking for him, asking the mechs within if they had seen him or knew anything about him. He had endured lewd stares and comments from just about every mech he came across, and more than a few times he had had to defend himself from some of the more violent patrons who frequented such places and didn't like _his kind_. But no one ever knew anything about Swiftwind…had never even seen a Seeker up close besides Starscream himself.

After vorns of coming up empty-handed, Starscream was almost ready to give up on ever finding the mech. It had crossed his mind a few times that he might be dead, but the tiny amount of energy that made up their sibling bond still remained within his spark, so he knew that he wasn't.

No, he wasn't dead, just lost.

Frustration built up within him again at the thought of just how alone he _really_ was in this endeavor. His brother could be anywhere; hiding in the masses that made up Cybertron's untold number of inhabitants…his Trinemates had abandoned him, branded him a traitor and turned their backs on him without even trying to understand what he was going through, what he had to do…

He felt his spark constrict with the unfairness of it all, the anger and hurt and frustration peaking again. He slammed his hands hard onto the table and slid everything off its surface in a heated rage, the noise of numerous datapads and styluses clattering to the floor doing nothing to bring him out of his own self-loathing, sorrowful state of mind.

When everything in his room was still again and silence fell on him once more, he noticed how lightheaded his little tantrum had made him.

He groaned, slumping back into his chair and hiding his face in his hands…he didn't know what to do. He knew what he _had_ to do, but _how_ he was going to do it was proving to be quite a difficult task.

Starscream felt his spark constrict again, almost painful in its frustrated and uncertain fluttering. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and to see all of the hard work and effort he had put into his planning going nowhere was almost sparkbreaking…

He sighed pitifully, feeling too overwhelmed to dwell on it any longer.

He was about to allow himself to drift back into recharge when his domicile's comm. system went off, heralding the first visitor he had had in Primus only knew how long…

Starscream looked around his wrecked room self-consciously before pushing his taxed body up from the chair, standing on wobbly pedes and making his way into the next room carefully.

He hadn't been expecting any visitors, and truly he didn't know if he even wanted to see anyone…or why anyone would want to see him. He made his way through the living area of his apartment, a large and spacious room with sparse, functional furnishing and gleaming trinkets. He had decorated the room himself…something that he could at least be proud of whenever he had guests over, not that it was often that he did.

He stepped into the small foyer that housed the door and pressed the comm. almost hesitantly…the thought crossed his mind to ignore whoever was there, to act like he wasn't home and just go back to his plans…but he knew he couldn't do that. Besides, it might be helpful to have someone to talk to anyways, he decided.

His finger remained on the comm. pad for a moment before he spoke, but when he had remembered _how_ to actually speak out loud he wasted no time with pleasantries. "Who's there?" He asked, voice coming out more hoarse and shaky than he intended it to. It had been a while since he had actually had any need to speak.

He didn't have to wait long for an answer, "It's me. I haven't heard from you in a while, I got worried and thought I'd pay you a visit." Optimus Prime's voice sounded through the comm.

Starscream froze; face falling in an expression of abject horror. Optimus? Optimus was standing outside of his door wanting to see him…? His spark skipped a pulse in nervousness as he tried desperately to compose himself, giving himself a once over and peering into his dark home over his shoulder to scrutinize it.

It occurred to him in a moment of panic to just stay still and pretend as if he hadn't said or heard anything, to go back to his quarters and the lonesome darkness and ignore the only mech who cared for him enough to come check on him when he hadn't bothered to contact anyone in a few cycles…

It almost sounded like a good idea. Almost.

After an indecisive moment Starscream sent the command to open the door of his home, watching as it slid aside to admit his guest.

At first he saw nothing, the light flooding in from the hall blinding him. He narrowed his optics, faceplates scrunching into an expression of pain and discomfort. He brought a hand up to block the light, and after a moment of adjustment could make out the blackened silhouette of a hulking frame in the doorway.

As soon as he had grown comfortable enough with squinting his optics to see, he waved the other mech inside, moving further into the comforting darkness of his home and away from the light.

Optimus followed him in, the door closing securely behind him and leaving the two shrouded in nothing but the early morning cycle's darkness and wan starlight.

At first Starscream just stood there awkwardly, arms crossed behind his back and expression filled with a kind of meekness he hadn't felt since his first crush on Skyfire. He didn't know what it was about the Prime that made his spark feel as if it were going to burst from its chamber and dissipate into nothingness…but whatever it was, he attributed it to the mech's personality. Optimus had a way of making him feel safe, warm and at ease…it was almost unnerving, considering that they had been enemies once.

He was jolted from his thoughtful staring, however, when the larger mech made a sound of stern disapproval and grabbed him gently by the upper arm.

Starscream was so surprised at the unexpected touch that he actually jumped, pulling his arm away as if he'd been burned. How long had it been since he'd actually been _touched?_ Too long.

Optimus' brow ridges furrowed in worry at the Seeker's reaction, his stance suddenly a bit more unsure than it had been only kliks ago. He gave the flier a look that suggested something was wrong and carefully reached out again.

This time Starscream didn't jump, he simply stared at the mech, a slight tremor running the length of his frame as Optimus took him by the arm again, steering him towards the couch.

When the Prime motioned for him to sit down, he did, gaze never leaving the larger mech's as he sat beside him.

He couldn't quite identify the look in Optimus' optics as he looked him over, but it didn't appear good in any way.

"Starscream, are you alright?" He asked quietly, deep voice laden with worry.

Starscream snapped out of whatever daze he had been in at hearing the mech speak, his optics refocusing and wings flicking in response. He didn't know how to answer that question truthfully, or if he wanted to answer at all. Was he alright? For that matter, was _anything_ alright?

He straightened a little and tilted his helm in confusion, brow ridges furrowing as he attempted to piece together a coherent sentence. "I'm fine…why wouldn't I be?" He asked, voice still sounding too shaky for his liking. He had had his vocalizer repaired a short time after Cybertron had been returned to its former glory, deeming the operation necessary to maintain at least some semblance of dignity after all that happened with The War. However, even though now his vocals were smooth and light, it had been so long since he had used them that they were hoarse and scratchy. He only hoped that Optimus could overlook how horrible he sounded right now.

The larger mech didn't seem to pay his voice any attention at all; instead he swept his gaze around the living area, taking in what he could through the small amount of light that the stars offered. He returned his gaze to Starscream a moment later, narrowing his optics in uncertainty at the younger mech. "Starscream, do you know how long it's been since you've been out of your apartment?" He asked.

The Seeker frowned. That was certainly a strange question to ask, of course he knew how long it had been, he wasn't a shut-in for Primus' sake. "A few cycles, why?" He inquired. He allowed himself to smile then, mood lightening slightly at Optimus' funny questions. The mech was almost entertaining with how much he unnecessarily worried about others; it was just another trait that defined him, a trait that Starscream couldn't decide if he liked or not.

Optimus was eerily silent for what felt like an entire breem, simply staring at the Seeker with some indiscernible expression. He moved his hand to the smaller mech's shoulder and rested it there gently, his energy field giving off nothing but tumultuous concern.

"Starscream, it's been almost an entire orn…"

At that the Seeker froze, body going rigid and optics widening in disbelief. It hadn't been that long. It couldn't have been…he had only been going over his plans for a small amount of time, a week tops. An entire _orn_…that was impossible. That was too long.

He looked at Optimus with nothing apparent in his expression but confusion, waiting for the other mech to say he'd only been joking or that he had just wanted to see the look on his face…but he remained silent, just observing.

Starscream felt his spark stall for a brief second, dread consuming him angrily and without reprise.

His wings sagged against his back and he once again felt himself slouching, all previous attempts at trying to keep his posture somewhat presentable gone…an entire orn. He really _had_ become obsessed. But what else was he supposed to do? He had done what was necessary to formulate a way to take back his home…to get the vengeance his Clan so desperately deserved…and even though he hadn't been able to succeed so far, did an orn really mean so much? He had lost track of time, yes, but how much did time really mean to him anymore?

His optics caught Optimus' again and he paused, suddenly feeling extremely disgusted with himself. All that time and he still wasn't even competent enough to come up with a plan that worked.

"An entire orn?" He sounded so unsure of himself that at first he wasn't even convinced it was him who had asked.

Optimus nodded slowly, "Starscream, what's been going on? Have you been feeling alright?" He inquired, voice lowering again in concern.

The Seeker stiffened. It dawned on him that he couldn't tell the truth, if he did then Optimus would surely try to talk him out of it…maybe even go so far as to try and forcibly stop him from bringing his plans – however unfinished they were – from coming to fruition. His optics dimmed at that, a physical pain gripping his spark in the wake of fear. He couldn't let that happen.

Truthfully, he didn't feel alright. He felt like slag. But, if it placated Optimus enough to make the larger mech less concerned about him, then he would lie. After all, one of his strongest talents _was_ lying, and it had been oh so long since he had been able to use it.

"Nothing's been going on, Optimus…I just, lost track of time is all. You see, I've been trying to implement a new feature to my converter blueprints and I suppose that I just got carried away. I'm fine, trust me." He smiled, expression practically dripping with nervousness and faux-innocence.

Optimus was silent for a moment before he ex-vented slowly, relaxing only slightly. "Ah, you had me worried there for a while, Starscream. An orn is a long time to disappear on someone, but I should have guessed that you had gotten engrossed with your work." His bright azure optics shined into Starscream's own with something akin to relief, and the Seeker could only guess that he was smiling behind his mask.

"Yes well, you'd be surprised at how easily I am distracted." He said, voice quiet in light of the new, more relaxing atmosphere. He was glad that he had thought of using his converters as an excuse. Despite the fact that he couldn't _assume_ his friends would attempt to keep him from seeing the vengeance he rightfully deserved, he didn't want to assume that they _wouldn't_ either. Optimus, as compassionate as he was towards anyone who had been wronged, would no doubt not understand, and more than likely would disagree with anymore bloodshed having to be brought about. Starscream couldn't let him find out…couldn't let _anyone_ find out.

If he had to be alone in this, then he would be _completely_ alone. That meant no friends, no allies, no advisors…no one. Not even Ratchet and Wheeljack could know.

He was jolted from his wandering thoughts yet again by Optimus, who had placed a hand on his knee to get his attention.

The touch sent another tremor through Starscream's frame, his spark thrumming hotly in its chamber and his core temperature skyrocketing unexpectedly. Primus, if an orn with no physical contact of any kind made him this hungry for attention, he didn't have any intentions of being locked up for that long again.

He cleared his throat, trying to tame his voice enough to sound alluring. "Optimus, I'm glad to see that at least you cared enough to come and visit me, despite the fact that I've been so reclusive." His tone was soft and full of subtle enthusiasm as he spoke, his small hand drifting to rest over the one Optimus had placed on his knee. "After all, no one else bothered to even contact me to see how I was doing, let alone were so kind as to actually come and check up on me."

With the Seeker's optics dimmed and his lips slightly parted into a wanton smirk, Optimus found himself suddenly very lost as what to say, which was odd for him. Of course, he wasn't exactly a mech of many words to begin with, but when it came to Starscream he usually had no problems with conversation.

Until now, apparently. He wasn't stupid, he knew – and had known, just like any mech with functioning optics – that Starscream was a very attractive mech. Sleek, slim, elegant and exotic, there wasn't much about the Seeker that could be viewed as average or easily-overlooked. Optimus had caught himself staring at the smaller mech since the very first time he had seen him during The War, and even now he wasn't invulnerable to unintentionally ogling the Seeker for longer than was deemed appropriate. However, and unlike many other mechs, Optimus wasn't solely attracted to the flier's looks.

No, early on he had seen that Starscream was not only beautiful, but that the mech was intelligent as well. A scientist by trade, and a self-taught engineer of sorts, there wasn't much that Starscream was incapable of as far as the realms of knowledge were concerned, and to Optimus that only made the Seeker even more desirable.

He had noticed his fondness of Starscream growing more and more into something else when he had met Skyfire and learned of the shuttle's past with him. More specifically, the shuttle's past with the _past_ Starscream. As it had turned out, Starscream hadn't always been the bratty, obnoxious, conniving little pain-in-the-aft he had presented himself to be during The War, but at one time had been very calm-natured and only moderately irritable. According to Skyfire, the Starscream he had known was 'shy, had trust-issues, and was very seldom confrontational with anyone.'

That had only driven Optimus' intrigue to higher levels, almost bordering on obsession. He desperately wanted to meet the Starscream that Skyfire had spoken of, but at the same time, the Starscream he had come to recognize during The War was just as intriguing.

He had rarely spoken to Ratchet or Wheeljack about their relationship with Starscream. They weren't necessarily secretive about the fact that they had been his surrogate creators, but they didn't like discussing the details of Starscream's younglinghood with anyone. And Optimus never pressed them for information.

He had finally gotten his chance to observe Starscream more closely during the closing orns of The War, when the Seeker had defected unexpectedly and offered the Prime his services in exchange for his help with restoring Cybertron.

Of course Optimus had accepted, and though the majority of his army had objected to the Seeker's presence among them at first, the benefit of Starscream's energy converter had soon swayed many opinions.

Optimus hadn't had to wait long to see the Starscream that Skyfire had spoken so fondly of…but the small flier was so much more than what he had been able to piece together and imagine through the testimony of other mechs alone.

He was captivating.

And Optimus, despite himself, had quickly found himself falling in love. He had to have the Seeker as his own, but how to go about it was what had him in the same awkward position every time he came into contact with Starscream.

Just like now, whenever the Seeker would bat his pretty crimson optics at him or smirk at him so seductively with those full, luscious lips, he faltered and went completely silent like a terrified youngling attempting to talk to his crush for the first time.

To make matters worse, it never seemed like Starscream was too intent on making the first move.

And so, Optimus could do nothing else but stare at the smaller mech with wide optics and feign complete obliviousness.

His processor raced desperately to remember what the Seeker had said before he had gotten distracted, and latched onto what he could as if it were a lifeline.

"But others _did_ contact you," He spluttered dryly, tone coming out more harsh and urgent than he meant for it too. "Ratchet and Wheeljack have both been trying to get in touch with you, but you never answered. They're very worried about you."

Starscream's seductive expression vanished in an instant, replaced with one as awkward as Optimus felt. His optics widened minutely and his lips downturned in a loose frown, he had obviously been thrown off by the Prime's apparent lack of interest.

"Oh." He said smoothly, "Well, I suppose I should probably…call them back then." His wings flicked down into a noticeably dejected position and Optimus almost couldn't resist the urge to slap himself for being such a strutless coward.

Starscream removed his hand from the larger mech's and shifted his legs nervously, obviously uncomfortable with the still-maintained contact between them.

Optimus took the hint and removed his hand as well, clearing his throat just to break the awkward silence that had overtaken them like the darkness in the room.

He hurriedly tried to think of something to say to salvage the situation, anything to keep Starscream from viewing him as just a friend…an uninterested one at that.

He spoke up quickly, optics brightening as he remembered what had initially brought him to come check on the Seeker in person – not that he wasn't simply concerned for the other mech's wellbeing, but what he had been meaning to ask did go over more smoothly faceplate-to-faceplate then over a comm.

He dared to attempt reaching for Starscream's hand again, this time holding it gently enough to just be considered friendly contact, but firmly enough to seem like something more. The Seeker stiffened a bit at yet another conflicting signal from the larger mech, but didn't pull his hand away or appear offended.

Encouraged, Optimus went about approaching him with his question. "Starscream, it occurred to me that the anniversary of The War's end is approaching, and, considering that it has been so long since then and Cybertron has remained at peace, Jazz is planning a grand party of sorts…well, it's more like a ball than anything, really, and I was wondering if you might want to accompany me to it," He paused, suddenly very unsure of himself as he took in the Seeker's thoughtful expression. Was that look good or bad? Should he stop and just assume that he'd been shot down, or continue and hope that everything went well? At a complete loss, and more than simply nervous, Optimus forcefully squashed his doubts and voiced the last of his not-so-well-thought-out proposal. "As…as my date." He finished, tone flat and completely hopeless.

At Starscream's indiscernible expression he quickly added, "Not that you have to! I mean, it's completely up to you, it's just that I was in hopes of having you attend the ball with me so that we could perhaps spend a little more time together than we have in the past few orns. I greatly enjoy your company, Starscream."

Starscream's expression softened a little at that and he smiled, squeezing Optimus' hand gently. "I would love to, Optimus. Nothing would please me more." He said, voice saccharinely sweet. His confidence from earlier had returned and more so than before his optics pierced the Prime's with what could only be arousal.

Optimus felt more relief wash over his frame than he had experienced in quite some time, cycles of pent-up nervous energy flooding from him in waves. He had been dreading that question, torturing himself with the possibility that Starscream may have rejected him. But, now that his concerns had been proven unnecessary, he could rest easy until it came time for the ball.

"Jazz was in hopes that you'd come, he feels that we owe you a lot for what you've done for Cybertron, for us all. He was actually wanting to have a party specifically in your honor but he feared you wouldn't approve, and so he's planning on simply honoring you at the ball, if that's alright with you, of course." He explained carefully, watching Starscream's expression for any sign that the Seeker would disagree with what he had said.

Starscream was silent for a moment, as if contemplating something, before he simply nodded. "While my converters were a great asset to helping restore Cybertron, I don't believe that my actions deserve any honorable mentions." Optimus looked cowed by that remark, and he quickly added, "However, it has been a long time since I've been openly praised and I must admit, a little ego stroking would probably do me some good."

The Prime straightened a bit at that and Starscream could tell that he was smiling behind the mask. "Yes, well if anyone is deserving of any ego stroking then it's you, Starscream. Your converters are what enabled us to return home after all. In my opinion, all of the thanks from every mech on Cybertron would never be enough to properly express how much we owe you." He said softly, looking into the Seeker's optics with an intensity that Starscream hadn't experienced since the last time he had seen Megatron.

He would have thought they were similar, yet Optimus' optics weren't carrying the same indiscernible mix of emotions that Megatron's had been.

Nonetheless, he smiled amiably, "You're too kind, really." His wings waved down on his back as he suddenly couldn't focus on the previous feelings of arousal and nervousness that he had felt for Optimus only moments ago. He didn't know whether to attribute the sudden change in mood to his own wandering thoughts of Megatron, or just the turn that the conversation had taken…but either way, he didn't like it.

Optimus seemed to sense his growing edginess and gave the Seeker an uncertain look, but he didn't press for any information. Whatever had brought on the mood-swing was no doubt something within Starscream's own mind, and he had no intentions of annoying the volatile young mech by prying. After all, he didn't want Starscream to change his mind about accompanying him to Jazz's ball.

He cleared his throat and stood, jolting Starscream out of whatever train of thought he had been trapped in and causing the Seeker to quickly rise to his pedes as well.

Though the apartment was still bathed in darkness, Optimus' optics had adjusted well enough for him to see. He glanced around very briefly before pinning Starscream with a friendly stare, watching as the smaller mech's lips twitched up into his usual smirk. "Well, the ball is an orn from now and Jazz told me to tell you that if you wanted to invite any friends that you could, each attendee is allowed up to five guests so you don't have to be very choosy. If you would like you could come to the palace a joor or so before the ball starts and we can leave from there."

The offer was expressed with genuine hope and Starscream almost felt compelled to simply go to the Prime's palace with him at that very moment. However, he reminded himself that he still had work to do, and that this unexpected visit had probably set him back in his plans.

He simply nodded, too distracted by the growing ire in his spark to really pay any more attention to what his friend had to say.

Optimus seemed to understand, and, in a gesture that contradicted his usual professional nature, he moved in to guide Starscream into a loose embrace.

The Seeker froze, unsure of what to do.

Optimus had never been a very outwardly emotional mech – as his mask exemplified – and had never been the kind of mech that went beyond talking to others in a calm, controlled manner. He was very compassionate and empathetic, yes, but even when he was angry he didn't raise his voice, and when he sympathized with others he never offered any more comfort than a simple squeeze of the shoulder plating, if not just a pat on the back.

Starscream had never seen Optimus hug anyone, and the only other mech he had ever heard Optimus talk so freely around besides himself was Ironhide, and that was only because they were close friends.

And so, not wanting to appear uncertain about the friendly sign of affection, Starscream wrapped his arms around the mech, embracing him as well. It was certainly strange, being so close to Optimus without actually feeling as if his spark was about to bust from its chamber, nervousness flooding him like some inexperienced youngling. But he enjoyed the closeness more than he knew he should.

They stood that way for what felt like an entire breem, the only sound in the quiet darkness of Starscream's apartment being the small flicking of his wings fanning out lazily. It was peaceful, and though he was almost loathe to admit it Starscream felt his overworked processor calming as he simply focused on the feeling of Optimus' strong arms enveloping him and holding him close. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be held, and his spark whirled tumultuously at the thought that he hadn't had any kind of affectionate contact since he had left the Decepticon ranks…left his Trinemates.

He had craved the attention once he realized how much he missed it, once he understood that since his Trine had abandoned him he wouldn't be _getting_ that attention anymore unless he found someone else, another mech who would be willing to supply him with all the affection he wanted. And that, at the time since The War had ended, had been the last thing on his list of priorities.

Despite how badly his body ached for the tender ministrations of another mech, he knew that Vos came first and foremost. He could never rest easy knowing that his city was still under the rule of a false Winglord, some pitiful excuse of a mech who had had to murder his own rulers just so he could have a taste of what power felt like…it made him sick to even think about it.

His thoughts began to stir again after that particular revelation and he could no longer simply stand still. He brought his hands to Optimus' chestplates and pushed gently, letting the larger mech know that he was becoming uncomfortable, and the Prime backed away, arms sliding from around Starscream's waist almost wistfully.

The Seeker, even if he had noticed, paid him no mind. He simply looked up at the tall mech before him with a painfully confused expression, mouth pressed into a loose, uncertain frown.

Optimus felt his spark constrict in sympathy for the Seeker, he didn't know what was going on in Starscream's helm or what had him so visibly unsure and flustered, but he knew that it couldn't be pleasant. Even after all that had happened during The War, and all that Starscream had come through since then, he felt an overwhelming amount of pity towards him in regard to the fact that Starscream could _still_ not find peace of mind.

The silence didn't last as long as Optimus had hoped it would, and before he knew it Starscream had broken optic contact and was looking at the door, his body language spoke volumes, wings fanning lower on his back and thruster heels shifting restlessly.

Optimus knew it was time for him to leave.

He cleared his throat, trying to ease some of the tension that had crept into the surrounding atmosphere, before taking a step back. "I suppose I should be going, I have a meeting with Prowl and the Iaconian Security Council today that I probably shouldn't be late for." He said softly, attempting to not sound as if he were in a rush to leave.

Starscream nodded and motioned toward the door, following Optimus as he stepped around the couch and made his way back to the entrance of the apartment.

Though it was still unsettlingly dark, Optimus didn't have any issues avoiding anything that he could have possibly run into or broken, until his audios registered a slight cracking noise and he felt something beneath his pede.

He paused, easing up before he could crush whatever it was, and looked down. It was too dark to see what he had stepped on, so he bent and picked the thing up, feeling the light object with his fingers before bringing it close enough to his face to make out what it was.

Starscream stepped beside him, unsure of what it was that the larger mech had in his hand until his optics caught sight of the datapad he had thrown out of his room earlier.

The datapad with one of his plans on it.

Optimus looked as if he were about to flick the datapad on to see what it contained, but Starscream quickly reached up and snatched it from him before he could, pulling it close to his canopy and giving the Prime a guarded look.

Before Optimus even had the time to look stunned or confused, Starscream hurriedly tried to placate him, "Sorry about that, that's um…it's one of the schematics for my converter upgrades, I must've misplaced it. How careless of me…" He lied, trying to seem completely normal about how defensive he had just gotten and hoping that Optimus wouldn't see right through him or become suspicious.

Thankfully the larger mech didn't ask about the datapad and simply continued to the door, waiting as it slid open before pausing in the doorway and turning back to Starscream.

He hesitated for a moment, waiting to see if Starscream would say anything, but when the Seeker remained uncharacteristically quiet he realized that he shouldn't linger. He stepped back, preparing to take his leave and allow Starscream to get back to his work, only to barely register a light touch to his wrist.

Thinking that the flier had forgotten to tell him something he turned back to look at him, expecting to see Starscream smiling placidly up at him as he had been a moment ago. What he hadn't expected, however, was to see the Seeker looking at him with an expression akin to disappointment. The look made him pause, smirking uncertainly behind his mask.

Starscream moved forward, pressing himself flush against the larger mech's chestplates and using his free hand to tap at Optimus' mask. "Retract it, please…" He said, optic ridges furrowing a bit in both curiosity and anticipation.

Optimus hesitated for a short moment, very unsure about retracting his facemask. Despite what the rumors he had heard floating around the _Ark_ said, he wasn't ugly or horribly disfigured, but he just didn't like the idea of mechs being able to see his face…being able to study his expressions and gauge his emotions…it made him too much of an open book, and open books were a liability in both the public and private aspects of life.

But…with Starscream, did it really matter?

After a moment of deliberation, he decided that no, it did not. He sent the command to allow his mask to retract, watching for any sign of a reaction from Starscream. Surprisingly, the Seeker looked as if he had known exactly what Optimus looked like beneath the mask all along and didn't even bother studying his features. He leaned up on his delicate pedes, guiding Optimus' helm down into a chaste kiss.

It didn't last long, but as Starscream pulled away and smirked at him, Optimus felt as if his spark was going to physically extract itself from its chamber. His processor was swimming with all kinds of thoughts that he had previously only imagined coming true in his wildest dreams, but when his optics finally came back into focus from the surprisingly pleasant daze he had entered and locked with Starscream's, he realized that perhaps his dreams hadn't been so wild after all.

Starscream flashed a quick smile at him before retreating back into his apartment, hand hovering over the access pad next to the door as he thought. "I'll be by to visit you at the palace in a few cycles," He said carefully, watching the mech in the hall with an expression that almost looked sad. "Until then I hope all of your meetings go well, goodbye Optimus, thank you for visiting. You were exactly what I needed to get me off of my aft and back to being productive." His lips curled into a pretty smile and Optimus caught the cajoling tone in his voice.

"You're welcome, Starscream. I look forward to seeing you…until next time, stay safe." With one more wistful look at his friend the Prime took his leave, facemask still retracted and a happy smile plastered on his face, and Starscream finally allowed his door to close.

Alone in his apartment once again, he allowed himself a moment to think, reveling in the comforting, silent darkness. He didn't know what had compelled him to kiss Optimus…he knew that he liked the mech…knew that he didn't just see him as a friend. But when he had kissed him the only thing that had been on his mind was Megatron…was Megatron's indiscernible expression the last time he had seen him and the passion and fury and _betrayal_ that had been in his piercing crimson optics. So unlike the calm, fathomless blue of Optimus' own.

Starscream sighed as he felt the maddening loneliness of his life return to him, looking into his darkened apartment with no small amount of unhappiness.

He brought the datapad that he snatched away from Optimus back to optic view and flipped it on. Perusing its contents, he expected to see the same nonsensical mess that he had thrown out of his quarters in his little temper tantrum, but he belatedly realized that this plan was better than any of the others he had come up with.

It was possibly the only one that had any chance of succeeding…however risky it was.

He scanned it one more time, wondering when in his orn long daze he had come up with it, or what had even possessed him to think of the idea in the first place. But whatever it had been, it was very obvious that it had a real chance of working, and that with this plan he could take down Vos' false Winglord on his own. Granted, as soon as he killed the mech – _if_ he was able to kill the mech – then he would still most likely die at the hands of his lackeys and guards…

Sighing, he resisted the urge to become overwhelmed or disheartened by everything that had suddenly come up. His spark was a tangle of mixed emotions, his processor was scrambled thanks to his obsessive need for vengeance, and now he had thoughts of Optimus and his worthless slagger of an ex-leader running rampant through his mind in accompaniment with everything else.

But not everything was a complete loss, at least. His plan could be tweaked…perhaps if he could manage to find his brother, maybe hire a few mercenaries, _and_ find some way into Ata'hiori without alerting the palace guards then the plan could be a success after all.

Starscream ex-vented sharply and ran a sky-blue hand down his faceplates in exhaustion, he needed someone to talk this over with, inadvertently of course, but talking nonetheless. He needed information on his brother and Ata'hiori, and only mech he knew could tell him plenty about both.

Ratchet.

The Seeker felt uneasiness creep over him at the thought of asking his surrogate creator anything about Vos or his brother…Ratchet had never kept anything from him about his old home, but Starscream knew it made the medic uncomfortable to speak about it, about what happened.

To a certain extent Starscream could understand. But he still needed to know. _Needed_ to take back his home.

He would go to his creators and ask them, subtly, what they knew of Vos. He would go under the pretense of simple curiosity. And he would hope that when he asked everything he needed to, that Ratchet wouldn't catch onto what he was planning…because Ratchet was far too perceptive for his own good.

With another sigh he turned back to the door, preparing to leave his apartment for the first time in an orn. He supposed it would do him good to get out anyways, he certainly needed the space.

He looked down at the datapad and his half-formed plan once again, mind racing with different ways to make it work, and opened the door to his apartment absentmindedly.

Optimus would have already exited the building by now, and the hallway was desolate and quiet.

Without thinking he placed the datapad on a small table by the door, and stepped out, darkness enveloping his lonesome apartment once more as the door slid closed.

* * *

**A/N:** Welp, in case anyone is confused with anything, here's this little explanation thingy.

Yes, I didn't want to go into too much detail about how The War ended. Why? Because I felt it would take up too much time and space. No, Starscream didn't remain with Megatron, but the look between the two of them was significant and the fact that Starscream betrayed the Decepticons will be very important later on. Yes, Optimus and Starscream are attracted to each other, but Starscream also still has feelings for Megatron and that will come into play later (remember that love triangle I mentioned?). Yes, there will be a 'ball' of sorts, I didn't know what to call it and didn't want to keep referring to it as a party because it sounded tacky, and yes, Jazz is the host, because really, it's Jazz for Primus' sake. Ratchet and Wheeljack will be in the next chapter, and the datapad that Starscream left sitting on the table and his plan for taking back Vos will be of importance also!

Phew, well I hope that covered any questions… ;A;

Oh yeah, review and I'll make TFP Starscream swivel them talented hips of his for you! (Patch reference, anyone? Someone? No? Ok I'll be quiet now…)


	3. Chapter 3

So. I finally managed to upload this chapter. In all honesty, it was harder than I thought it would be. I started this chapter like a month ago, and made great headway on it, really I did. And then at work about two weeks ago I slipped like the clumsy, danger-prone newborn giraffe that I am and my Achilles tendon in my left leg ruptured and tore loose, _and_ took a nice little bit of my bone with it. I've been in and out of doctors' offices since then and, combined with college, I've been hard pressed to find time for writing. Plus I will be having surgery on the 18th to correct said unfortunate mishap, so there's that. ;A;

_However_, I will not be giving up on this fic! I promise I'll do my best to update whenever possible and hopefully not make the waits between each update too long. Please bear with me if you've been thinking that I'm a lazy, procrastinating scraplet. I am not. I am just very injured. Anyways, for those of you who have stuck with it thus far, thank you, and I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy. c:

**LadyBonBon: **Yay for galas! And thank you for your suggestion, I will be referring to it as a gala from here on out! (Every time I think of the word gala I imagine the Grand Galloping Gala from My Little Pony, haha!) And as for a jealous Megatron, well, he will be introduced very soon! And don't worry, while there will be more Optimus/Starscream moments to come, Megatron will win his Seeker over. I'm a die hard M/SS shipper as well! Who would have thought, huh? :D

**Indigo Ninja: **Thank you very much for the compliment, and hopefully the future will only bode well for this fic and I won't become a completely incompetent writer, haha! Thank you again for the review!

**Deezaster82: **Gotta love them love triangles! But if we loved a love triangle would that make it a love square? Hmmm. Anyways, thank you so much for the review! =)

**aki. vn: **Yeah, unfortunately for Megatron he's his own worst enemy when it comes to dealing with Starscream. But not to worry, things will get better for them in the future! Thank you very much for your review! =)

**peppymint: **I love irony. And yes, in fact, the placement of the datapad will be very important later! Thank you very much for your review! =)

**Guest: **I fragging love love triangles! And while my favorite pairing is M/SS, I completely agree with you in regards to the fact that there aren't enough OP/SS fics out there. In fact, I've actually been planning on writing one, and have even started on it! That pairing needs more love. :/ Thank you so much for your review!

**fan girl 666: **Starscream defecting to the Autobots will play an important role in the fic, which is why I originally chose to have that happen. It makes for more drama later on. =) And I love the idea of Optimus being awkward around Starscream and asking him out, he's so easily manipulated to be adorable and spineless when I write him! It's wonderful! (Well, I think it is at least.) And if the Vehicons had done the cancan, that episode would have been 20% cooler. Thanks for reviewing! =)

**IridescentMemory: **Honestly, I can't wait for jealous!Megatron either, but alas, I must wait at least until next chapter to write him. *sigh* And I will have the accompanying ficlet featuring little youngling Starscream up soon, and I'm glad you're excited for that! Yay! I'm also very glad that my fics make you happy! Thank you so much for the review, hun! =)

**arceeenergon: **Um…is that a good wow or a bad wow? =( Despite which one it may be, I still thank you for reviewing. =)

**cjade: **I'm glad you like it, here's the more you wanted! And thank you very much for the review! =)

**poisonous waffle'n-stuffs: **While that is a great suggestion, I unfortunately suck at attempting threesomes. And, while I understand that OP/M is a popular pairing, I personally dislike it and couldn't see myself writing a fic involving the two of them romantically, even if Starscream was a part of the relationship or not. But still, thank you for the suggestion! =) And thank you very much for enjoying the fic. And also, not to worry, Megatron and Starscream will be together in this fic. I'm a hopeless romantic when it comes to them, haha. Thank you for reviewing! =)

**tiedwithribbons: **Yes. Yes to all of those things. Maybe. Maybe to all of those things. But definitely yes to the M/SS thing. I love that thing. Thanks for the review! =)

**Guest: **Yes, yes there is. And here it is! Please enjoy. Thanks for the review! =)

Klik- Cybertronian minute

Joor- Cybertronian hour

Cycle- Cybertronian day

Decacycle- 10 cycles, but equivalent to a Cybertronian week just for the purposes of this fic :/

Orn- Cybertronian month

Vorn- um…a really long time? I guess…maybe…meh, we'll just let that be vague.

Meta (or meta-cycle)- Cybertronian year

* * *

Iacon, for as beautiful as the city was, had never held anything but a strange sense of restriction for him.

Since The War had ended all flying aside from commercial and passenger transports or cargo shuttles had been strictly banned. Even Optimus' influence could do nothing to assuage the people of the northern city-states' concerns about past events repeating themselves. Fliers of any kind were looked upon harshly by the everyday citizens, and Starscream had found himself more than just a little unnerved by going out in public around them.

He hadn't flown in vorns, and not only had the lack of wind beneath his wings been devastating to his mind, but he suspected it wasn't doing wonders for his overall appearance either.

As he walked through the busy cosmopolitan streets of the capital city he could practically _feel_ himself drawing in, his wings struggling to stay high on his back and his helm held high simply out of the need to show that he was a Seeker, and that he was proud of that fact. Most of the mechs he passed on the sidewalk were polite enough, merely nodding their helms in greeting or ignoring him completely as they walked by, going on about their own daily business and none the wiser of the ex-Decepticon in their midst.

However, some were all too aware of his presence, and they had no problem letting him know of their own.

As he walked, optics staring blankly ahead at the silhouette of buildings and their many glowing lights, Starscream tried his best to look over the many mechs who weren't as mannered or oblivious as the others. It wasn't an easy feat by any means, though. They would sneer at him, features drawn up in a look of disdain and optics piercing him with hatred or unwelcome. Others weren't so harsh, but still they leered at him, optics wandering his frame in the brief moment that they passed as if he couldn't see them. He could still feel their gaze on his back even when he walked away, when he was seemingly lost in the crowd of Groundlings and no longer visible to their prying optics.

He didn't understand why he had ever stayed here. Why he had decided to make Iacon his home.

Though he knew he wasn't welcome in Kaon, and that going to Vos was certainly not an option, there had definitely been other city-states he could have considered. Perhaps some that were more friendly to fliers than his current residence, at least.

Starscream attempted to push his mind away from the depressing train of thought, crossing his arms over his canopy and hiking his wings higher as he turned a street corner and continued onto an adjoining sidewalk. He was assaulted with another wave of mechs rushing by him, some of them clearly in a hurry and others leisurely strolling along with friends or with seemingly no purpose or place to be.

He passed them by without looking at their faces this time. It wasn't worth it anymore.

The sensors in his wings were alight with excitement as the cool Iaconian breeze swept through the streets and between buildings, teasing him with the ghost of a feeling of what it would be like to just forget laws and take to sky like he used to. He fought back a sigh as he urged his pedes to remain on the ground, his thrusters feeling almost brittle and weak every time they came into contact with the dusty, solid metal of Cybertron's surface. He wondered briefly how disgusting the ground must be with so many filthy Groundlings walking the streets each day, their grimy, heavy pedes tracking each others' dirt and muck everywhere they went.

He thought of his first time seeing Kaon, of how disgusting and filthy the air and streets had been there. Every mech who was unfortunate enough to live within the slag-hole of a city had practically blended into their unkempt surroundings, being as dull and dirty as the smoke and debris that rose from the smelting pits and either polluted their air or littered the ground.

Iacon was nowhere near as horrible and dingy as Kaon, but to Starscream there wasn't much difference in the way their ground-bound inhabitants treated the cleanliness of their streets. So many dirty pedes wandering about, and nowhere to fly to get away from the filth they left behind.

He shook himself out of the unnerved and paranoid stupor he was entering, tearing his optics away from the bright sidewalk and any mechs' pedes he had happened to catch sight of while he was walking.

All around him spanned a huge residential neighborhood, luxury high-rise apartments much like his own stretched up into the dark blue-black canvas of space, looking as if they could touch the stars themselves. Lights lit the sides of the buildings up on every floor, showing off the gleaming metal and advertising the name of each apartment complex, some even had signs on the side letting mechs know that they were great for newly bonded couples, established or growing families. Starscream didn't doubt it, after all his apartment sometimes seemed far too huge for a single mech to live in happily.

As he progressed further into the residential area and got farther away from the busy street he had been on earlier, he noticed many mechs leading their younglings from the complexes and no doubt taking them to begin the day at their respective learning academies. Some of the children looked rather excited and happy, contentedly following along beside their creators without a care in the world, others were far less enthusiastic.

One particular youngling, no more than three or four metas old, was pulling with all of his might against his sire as the exhausted mech hauled him by his arm down the sidewalk. He shrieked and protested with such vehemence that Starscream could have sworn he was being dragged to his imminent demise.

As his sire walked by grumbling curses under his breath, the little mechling cast wide, pleading optics onto Starscream, reaching out with the hand that hadn't been apprehended as if to grasp onto him for dear life.

The Seeker quickly sidestepped the small fingers making a grab at his shin plating and watched with a small amount of amusement as the youngling was dragged away still screaming and crying, a look of dismay painting his tear-stained features.

Other creators shared a look of exasperated pity for the screeching youngling's sire between themselves as they led their own children up the street, the accompanying younglings snickering at their no-doubt fellow classmate and the embarrassment he was causing himself.

Starscream relaxed a little at the easy atmosphere that enveloped the neighborhood, no longer feeling stared at or judged.

He had been here many times on his way to visit his own creators, and most of the faces he saw were somewhat familiar and more than friendly.

He supposed he was looked at as a sort of oddity by the mechs inhabiting the apartments, after all, when he visited he was always alone, and he never had a youngling of his own in tow. All of the mechs who lived in the expansive complexes were either bonded or had children of some kind, whether they were grown or not.

But he didn't dwell on it. No one ever stopped him and asked him why he was alone, not that they would, and he was very thankful for that. The fact that they may or may not think he was just a lone weirdo who wandered in from time to time was their own business, and he didn't care to know if that was really their opinion of him or not.

For now, he was content with knowing that Ratchet and Wheeljack were at least nestled within their own apartment high up on one of the many floors of the gleaming buildings, waiting to welcome him with open arms and smiling faces.

With that thought he pushed his sore pedes to move a little faster, walking past the mechs and their younglings who were still emerging from their own homes and making his way to the building that made up the end of the street.

The grand apartment complex rose up into the sky and blocked out the black silhouette of other buildings in the distance, the lights of domiciles within its massive frame signaling happy families conducting their daily activities within.

For a split second Starscream felt an unexplainable sense of jealousy rise within his spark, twisting uncomfortably and making him frown. He didn't know whether he was jealous of the fact that the mechs within the apartments had families of their own to be happy with, or whether he was jealous of the younglings who were lucky enough to have creators who loved them…creators who hadn't been ripped away from them like his had.

He knew that none of the oblivious families within their happy homes could help what had happened to him, but his spark still constricted with a small amount of rage at the injustice of it all.

Mood souring, he shook his helm lightly and pressed on, passing through the grand doors of the complex and into the bright foyer and its always-cheery employees. He wasn't going to let himself be pessimistic today…he had too much on his mind to get sidetracked by a worsening mood and a bad attitude.

The walls of the foyer eventually opened into an expansive lobby, a huge room with lightly painted white walls and golden-tinted wall fixtures decorating the entirety of it. The high ceiling sported numerous evenly-placed chandeliers, all of which changed the hue that their light emitted depending on what time of the cycle it was. Now, their pale blue light shined calmly down on the reflective tiling of the floor, washing the lobby with the serenity of early morning.

Starscream could appreciate the ingenuity of whoever had designed the lighting-fixtures, it took a brilliant and complex mind to come up with something as unique and enjoyable as they were.

He passed under the soothing light and made his way to one of the many lifts, waving his hand in front of the pad and patiently waiting for it to arrive. He bleakly remembered the lifts from the _Nemesis_, so rickety and unreliable…it had always taken them several kliks to arrive and even then there was no guarantee that they wouldn't stall halfway to whatever floor you were trying to go to, leaving any unwary mech within stranded until Scrapper or Soundwave one could fix the problem. He had gotten trapped in one once…and the lighting had shorted. By the time Soundwave had resolved the issue it had been far too late, joors of claustrophobia had taken their toll and rendered him a stuttering, shivering mess.

He could still hear his ex-comrades' laughter and cruel sneers; still see Megatron's humored smirk as his Trinemates had gingerly led him to their shared quarters.

Needless to say, after that particular incident, Starscream didn't like lifts of any kind. He didn't trust them not to stall the same way that the one on the _Nemesis_ had, leaving him trapped in a small box with no windows, hardly any room, and no escape except for what a bunch of incompetent, bumbling Groundlings could work out.

But, he had to utilize the lifts and convince himself that not all of them were malfunctioning scrap heaps. After all, it was either them or the stairs, and climbing fifty or so flights of steep, leg-hurting, pede-murdering steps just wasn't on his to-do list anytime soon.

Thankfully, the wait wasn't long, and before he knew it the doors of the lift slid open to admit him.

He stepped in a bit hesitantly, wings falling as the box beeped numerous times, waiting on any other passengers, before the doors closed and sealed him in.

Starscream ignored his reflection in the shiny metal walls as he typed in the floor he wanted to be transported to, instantly adjusting his stance as the elevator jolted upwards and rocked him slightly where he stood.

With every floor the lift passed an annoying little 'ding' would ring out, and every time it did Starscream felt his mood darkening. He was certain that after what had happened earlier with Optimus, and his discovery of an ingenious plan, that his day would be pleasant. But so far all of the trouble he had undergone just to come see his surrogate creators was proving more and more nerve-wracking.

He just hoped that when he finally got to speak to Ratchet that the medic wouldn't see straight through him and refuse to tell him anything he knew.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of 'ding'-filled torture, the lift came to an abrupt halt, it's reflective doors sliding open to reveal a spacious hallway.

Starscream willed his pedes to move and forced his tired legs to work, walking sluggishly into the hall and following its pale yellow floor tiles all the way to the end, where a pristine and equally pale yellow door was nestled into the wall.

He glanced at the wall that made up the end of the hallway, feeling his spark constrict a little at the thought that there should be a window there. He didn't understand how Groundlings could live in such cramped spaces with hardly no view of the sky…it was almost maddening.

He found himself reaching for the comm. panel on instinct, his optics still riveted to the windowless wall as if it were going to come forward and lessen the space in the hall even more. He couldn't quite explain why walls scared him so much…well, maybe _scared_ wasn't the right word for it, but the feeling he got when he was surrounded by them…by solid, cold masses of metal with no openings, no outlets...it wasn't pleasant in the least, and it did little to help put him at ease. All he could envision was walls, sturdy and impenetrable, closing in on him, cutting off any chance of escape, _crushing_ him as if he were no more than an earthen insect…

His wings twitched nervously at the thought of it, and he spared a glance to the other end of the hall, making sure that the far wall was still a good distance away from him and not closing in as he feared.

It remained where it was, just as a wall should.

He didn't know why he was feeling so paranoid and…off, as of late. He supposed it had a lot to do with his plans and the fact that he was utterly doomed. Or, on a more positive note, perhaps his mind was just tired of trying to push back the negative and half-crazed thoughts that plagued him on a daily basis.

Either way, he still didn't trust his surroundings in the least. Again, he checked the far wall, ensuring once more that it hadn't moved – either as an illusion meant to invoke panic in him or actually moving in to crush him. Seeing as how it hadn't, he allowed himself to relax.

Before he had time to feel relieved – or incredibly stupid for thinking a wall would move – the door in front of him slid open with a quiet hiss and he was greeted with the sight of a rather surprised Ratchet. The medic stood in the doorway with wide optics, brilliant blue staring happily into the crimson of his adopted son.

Starscream managed to tear his optics away from the wall rather quickly, displaying a smile that wasn't entirely fake, he hadn't seen Ratchet in what had to be a few orns and to see him now, as pristine and familiar as always, it took a weight off of his spark.

The ground mech's surprised expression quickly morphed into one of controlled happiness, a smile gracing his features as he shot forward, arms reaching for the Seeker that he had raised – and for the past few orns, missed dearly. Starscream leaned into the warm embrace, reciprocating all of the offered affection with relief.

It had been so long since he had felt the comfort that came with a creator's soft, welcoming embrace, and with Ratchet, a mech who rarely showed his affectionate side, he couldn't help but feel as if he had just walked into some rare phenomena that only occurred once every million vorns. He wrapped his arms around his surrogate carrier as tight as he could, squeezing the ground-bound mech to him with a soft, contented sigh. He could feel Ratchet's smile against his audio as the medic reveled in the long-lost attention, obviously having missed it.

His spark warmed inexplicably at the thought that he was actually missed, that someone on Cybertron was actually unfalteringly there for him. After everything that had happened, everything that he'd done, Ratchet never stopped loving him. Even his Trine had abandoned him when he defected…but Ratchet was there, accepting him with open arms and a kindly smile. Ratchet had always been there.

Unlike anyone else…

Eventually, and very reluctantly, Starscream let go, taking a step back and fanning his wings out happily as he stared past Ratchet and into the domicile expectantly, "Are you going to let me in or is this visit going to be restricted to the hallway?" He asked quietly, tone sarcastic even though there was no venom in it.

Ratchet simply moved aside and waved him in, long used to Starscream's constant attitude.

He followed his son into the living area of his home and gestured for him to take a seat, moving off into the attached kitchenette as he spoke. "I was wondering when you were going to stop by," He said a bit sternly, "Wheeljack and I have missed you, you know. I mean really Starscream, how hard is it to walk ten blocks from your apartment complex to ours?" He continued reprimanding him even as he returned to the living area and took a seat next to him on the couch with an armful of goodies, holding out a cube of energon and an oilcake for Starscream to take. Which he did.

The Seeker looked around for a moment in confusion, "Where's 'Jack?" He asked, turning back to Ratchet with a curious expression when his search for his adopted sire turned up empty.

Ratchet shrugged and motioned further back in the apartment, obviously toward his berthroom. "Still in recharge, there was an accident at the lab yesterday." He explained nonchalantly, quickly returning to the previous subject of reprimanding his son.

"Look, we worry about you, Star. We hadn't heard from you in so long that we finally got in touch with Prime. I expect that he paid you a visit?"

Starscream allowed himself to relax into the couch, taking a sip of energon as he nodded, "Yes, he did."

The look on Ratchet's face told Starscream that he wanted to know more, blue optics narrowing suspiciously and pinning him with a look that was uniquely the medic's own. It was painfully obvious that he had spoken to Optimus since his visit with Starscream, and that the Prime had not given much information to go on.

Starscream simply looked at his surrogate with a humored expression, allowing himself to relax further into the couch and its soft, welcoming pillows. He smirked to himself at the thought that he could keep his and Optimus's little date plans a secret from everyone, even Ratchet, and that not telling him anything would most likely infuriate him to the point of ranting. But, when he thought about it, he didn't really want to hold the information back. It would be nice to talk about what had happened between them, if only a little, with someone who would actually listen and talk back. Plus, he needed Ratchet in a good and talkative mood if he wanted to find out anything on his brother.

Choosing his words carefully, he gave his creator a wry little smile. "Well, it was a bit more than 'just a visit.'" He said a bit wistfully, remembering the feel of soft, gentle lips against his. "We talked. He said that you were worried about me–"

"_Worried_ about you is an understatement!" Ratchet cut in, voice a deadly quaver as he glared further at his son. "For all we knew you could have been laying offline somewhere in a ditch, Starscream. You haven't even bothered to call us in orns, not even for just _five kliks_ to say 'oh yeah by the way I'm fine, not offline or anything, love you, bye!'" His expression was a maelstrom of different emotions, blue optics cold as ice.

Starscream was smart enough to register the scathing tone in Ratchet's comment, but for his own sake he ignored the mech. Now was not the time to get caught up in an argument with the mech, both of them were far too hard-helmed to back down from a heated verbal fight if it came to it.

He sighed, optics narrowing into angered slits and mouth pressing into a frown. "Far be it from me to make assumptions here, but I think I'm old enough to not be held accountable for where I choose to go or who I choose to talk to, whether it's you or anyone else." Honestly, he wasn't a youngling anymore, and he definitely wasn't in the mood to have Ratchet scrutinize everything he did…or in this case, didn't do.

"If it's an apology you're wanting, you won't be getting one." He hissed.

Ratchet, for his part, looked unfazed by Starscream's sudden change in mood. Still, he managed to look incredibly perturbed at the Seeker. "Yes well, despite the fact that you've been an _awful_ son here lately, you're here _now_, and that settles that, no apologies necessary. However, I would like to know more about what finally drew you out of your apartment. Optimus said that you were in rough shape when he found you."

Starscream felt himself inwardly cringe at that. Optimus thought he was in rough shape? As if his ego hadn't been suffering enough lately…still, he perked up to save face, forcing himself to sit up straight. He may not look too happy, and really he wasn't, far from it in fact, but when dealing with Ratchet it was best to try and appear as non-apathetic as possible. "Maybe saying that I was in 'rough shape' was an exaggeration on his part." He muttered a bit darkly. Honestly, if Optimus thought that he looked rough then he shouldn't have been flirting with him, let alone pretended to be the least bit interested in him. "I suppose that it was nice to have someone over, to be honest." He continued, "I had been so sidetracked with my plans that time just lost all meaning. Joors turned into cycles, cycles into decacycles, and before I knew it there he was telling me that I had been in my apartment for an entire orn. Needless to say I was pretty stunned. I just couldn't imagine myself being in there for so long…"

The realization of it still stung, every time he thought about how caught up he had gotten with his numerous failed plans and simple outlines of even more that were doomed to fail…he almost didn't want to think about it. Still, at least one scenario that leaned more in his favor had come out of it, and _with_ that scenario all he needed was his brother to set things in motion. And Ratchet knew more about Swiftwind's disappearance than any other mech.

Starscream was about to continue filling his surrogate in on his and Optimus's conversation when he noticed how quiet the other mech had fallen. He looked over, trying to gauge the expression on the medic's face, but it was cryptic. Ratchet had always been good at picking up on things that others tried to hide, and Starscream quickly felt himself growing more and more nervous.

His wings dipped lower against the couch, finicky twitches and flicks showing how restless he was. Carefully, he sat his energon and the oilcake that he hadn't touched on the table in front of him, staring dejectedly at the floor near Ratchet's pedes.

Ratchet quickly sensed his change in mood and jumped at the opportunity to speak. "You mentioned something about plans?" He inquired, trying to sound inconspicuous.

Starscream was nothing if not cunning, but Ratchet was nothing if not perceptive, and unfortunately perception seemed to beat craftiness every time. Still, Starscream wasn't about to let what was supposed to be a routine visit to see his creators turn into an interrogation. Especially if said interrogation would hinder his need for vengeance against the monsters who murdered his family.

Ratchet may be smart, but he was far smarter.

With an exhausted sigh he sank back against the couch, pushing his twitching wings as far into the pillows as comfort allowed and giving the medic a look of lost hope. He tried to recount the same sorry excuse he had given Optimus to placate him, but found that it had slipped his mind…something about the energon converters? Oh well, it didn't really matter, as long as he could appease Ratchet long enough to get the information he wanted then he didn't care what he had told Optimus. "I've been working on a new device to monitor my converters and the quality of the energon that they produce. The plans for it and the schematics were giving me a hard time, I guess I just lost track of everything else and focused solely on it." He paused, trying to see if Ratchet was buying any of what he had just said. When it appeared that the medic was still attentively listening, he promptly continued.

"However, since Optimus so graciously pulled me out of my little…_trance_ I suppose, I decided that I would come and clear my mind by talking to you. I actually have a few questions to ask you…and I needed a break, too much work isn't good for the processor, you know." Somehow, he doubted that he had been very convincing.

Ratchet simply sat there, optics trained on him, searching for any sign or hint of deception. "I see." He murmured, concentration waning as he took in the new information with scrutiny.

Starscream _almost_ felt relieved, after all to any other mech Ratchet's reply would have seemed like acceptance and nothing more. But the Seeker knew him all too well, and those two little words were very far from acceptance.

"Starscream," That tone never led to anything good, "What's going on?"

He should have known that Ratchet wouldn't be so easily fooled. The mech had an optic for rooting out his lies, and his past with the Decepticons hadn't exactly helped him. Ratchet suspected everything that left his lips to be a lie since he had defected, and he honestly couldn't blame the mech, he had been a liar by trade. Deception was an uncanny talent that he seemed to be sparked with, but it never seemed to do him any good around the medic.

Still, it wouldn't do him any good to tell Ratchet the truth either. Blurting out his plans, or even a small part of them, would be detrimental at this point. He decided to feign complete innocence instead.

"What do you mean?" He asked, expression morphing into one of complete seriousness. Unconsciously he crossed his arms over his canopy, wings hiking up high on his back as he sought to protect the information he so desperately didn't want Ratchet to find out.

Ratchet rolled his optics at him, countenance equally serious. "Starscream you're not fooling anyone."He ground out, voice sounding almost strained. "You've been avoiding everyone, you've become increasingly antisocial, your posture is guarded, you've been more moody than usual the entire time you've been here, you're fidgeting, you–"

The medic came to an abrupt halt all of a sudden, ending the beginnings of a rant as his optics narrowed thoughtfully. "Starscream," He ventured, gaining the Seeker's attention via a heated glare. "Are you in heat?"

The question took Starscream completely off guard. His optics widened in an instant, mouth dropping open as disbelief and embarrassment washed through him from pedes to wingtips. He could feel his spark constrict so much that it almost stalled, freezing in its chamber at the sudden rush of awkwardness that overtook him.

His expression must have conveyed how shocked he was, crimson optics staring blankly at Ratchet in what the medic assumed was horror.

For his part, Ratchet took it all in without shrinking away and tried to assuage him with the beginnings of yet another rant. "Starscream it's completely normal, especially for a mech your age! Don't look so upset about it! I meant absolutely nothing by it, and you know it. As your creator it's my responsibility to know when you–"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Starscream shrieked, regaining what was left of his composure and cutting Ratchet off before he could make things even more awkward between them. He didn't talk about his heat cycles with anyone, _especially_ the mech who had raised him, and was more than a little irked that the medic had jumped to conclusions so quickly. The fact that Ratchet had so blatantly asked him, and with seemingly no regret either, had him flustered to the point of wanting to shoot the other mech. For all he knew Wheeljack could have woken up and overheard, and that would have been a nightmare. The haphazard inventor was more than a little averse to talking about his adopted son's…frame-type differences.

He continued frowning relentlessly at his carrier, faceplate a mask of shock. The anger that had overtaken him was slowly beginning to ebb away, but he kept his stricken expression up simply to remind Ratchet not to venture into that territory again. The cycles his body went through were his information, and his only.

The ground mech, having realized his mistake, switched gears as quickly as possible, trying to preserve what was still left of their uneasy conversation before things got too tense between them. He knew Starscream well enough to know that if the Seeker got too uncomfortable or irritated with where the conversation was going that he would leave. And honestly, it had been far too long since he had spoken to his adopted son to simply let him walk away.

He thought back on what Starscream had said before, trying to pick a topic that would keep the flier talking instead of making him more twitchy than he already was. He floundered around for a moment, hands gesturing toward the younger mech as if he was expecting help. When Starscream remained uncharacteristically silent, however, he was forced to still himself.

"You said something about questions?" The white and red mech asked quickly, voice displaying a lighter and more caring tone than earlier.

Though still wounded and perturbed, Starscream perked up a little at Ratchet's change in mood. He adopted a more thoughtful countenance, wings fanning out carefully against the pillows as he sat forward, closer to the ground-bound mech. "Actually," He started, trying to figure out the best way to draw information out of Ratchet without alerting the mech to his hidden motivation for being here in the first place. He supposed he was actually lucky that the medic thought he was in heat instead of suspecting that he was up to something…

He tensed up a little, brow ridges furrowing in concern and uncertainty as he peered into the optics of the mech who had raised him. "I was wanting to know more about the night you took me in…" He could feel his wings trembling with anxiety from mentioning that night out loud. It was almost taboo to try and talk about it with anyone but Ratchet. His Trinemates knew about what had happened, but they had never shown much interest in his past, and by extension they never wanted to talk about what had taken place in Ata'hiori before the new Winglord of Vos had come into power. But Ratchet had no such qualms about recounting what had happened on that fateful night so many vorns ago, even if did make him uncomfortable at times, and he had always answered Starscream's questions without making him feel patronized or pitied. In a way, Starscream felt more comfortable talking to Ratchet about it than he did sitting alone and brooding for joors on end.

The Groundling sat in silence for a moment, sifting through his processor to try and find anything that he hadn't told Starscream about already. He had had numerous conversations with the Seeker about the unfortunate circumstances that had led him into his and Wheeljack's lives, and in those conversations he had told Starscream everything there was to know about his past. He wasn't sure that there was anything more to tell.

"Star, I've told you everything I know already. What more is there?" He asked, trying to keep the sorrow and hopelessness he was feeling toward the Seeker from bleeding into his voice. Starscream had never liked being pitied.

Starscream shifted on the couch, trying to keep himself from becoming frustrated as he looked away from his carrier and to the floor instead. He brought a hand up to his canopy, gingerly resting it over his hidden spark chamber as he concentrated on the small wisp of energy that was his last remaining sibling bond. "There's Swiftwind." He murmured, "I know he's not offline…I tried to find him before, but…" at that he stopped, shaking his helm dismally. The more he thought about his long lost brother the more and more hopeless he felt.

Ratchet was slowly beginning to understand what the flier was hinting at. He nodded slightly to himself, trying to wrack his processor again for every memory he had concerning Swiftwind. He could tell Starscream many things about his older brother, but he feared he couldn't tell him what he was wanting to know. He sighed as a feeling of intense sorrow washed through him, taking in the sight of the exhausted and saddened young mech before him with nothing less than affection-wrought sympathy. He hated seeing Starscream like this. So broken and lost. The Seeker had spent the majority of his younglinghood like this, grieving quietly for long periods of time before forcing himself to snap out of it and put on a front. Knowing that he was still in such an intense state of mourning did nothing to ease the pain in Ratchet's spark.

He would rather see him with the cold, calculating demeanor he wore with the Decepticons than the way he was now. It was so _unlike_ him.

Still, he supposed he would tell Starscream what he knew. If it would lighten the Seeker's mood even a little then whatever he shared would be well worth it.

Ratchet smiled, a forlorn but happy expression spreading over his face as he spoke about the past. "Swiftwind was something else," the medic began fondly, trying to put into words the turbulent emotions that were racing through his spark. "He was tall for his age, much taller than you. Taller than even Thundercracker, if I remember correctly. He had this quirk in his personality that I could _never_ understand. Sometimes, he wanted nothing more than to help people. But at other times, he seemed Pit-bent on becoming the greatest warrior that Vos had ever seen. Even wanted to become a gladiator, at one point. When I would come to study under Ata'hiori's head medic he would follow me around, trying to learn everything I learned as if it were the most fascinating information he had ever heard." He paused for a moment, lips pulling down into a saddened frown as he took in Starscream's attention-rapt expression. The Seeker was quite obviously hanging onto every word he said, taking in the new information with the same fervor that Swiftwind had so many vorns ago.

"You know, one time he told me that he was planning on running away to Kaon. Said he was going to test his mettle against some up-and-coming champion in the arenas." He paused again, noticing how Starscream's wings swept back in horror and his optics lit up with recognition of exactly who that 'up-and-coming champion' had been. "That's right," He continued nonetheless, keeping his tone light, "Your brother had wanted to fight Megatron. I talked him out of it after a while, but he was a hard-helmed mech and he didn't give up on his plans easily."

Starscream held back a smirk at that, being hard-helmed must have been a family trait then…

"Sometimes I think the only thing that really kept him in Vos was you. Out of all of your brothers he loved you the most…I don't know if it was because you were the youngest or because you were the only one who indulged him by listening to him prattle on and on about the arenas and Kaon. Of course, it was probably the latter, you were so young at the time that stories of life outside Vos could keep you entertained for joors." Ratchet chuckled softly as scenes from a happier time replayed themselves in his mind, thinking back on how wonderful it had been to spend time in Ata'hiori, delving without prejudice into a culture that was so rich and vibrant…so different than what Starscream could remember.

"Swifty' was a good mech, Starscream." The medic said quietly, a sudden sense of loss and regret overcoming him as he pictured the older Seeker the way he was the last time he had ever laid optics on him.

"The night he brought you to me, he was so terrified that you were going to be killed. And you were so small, so _scared_ that I…I didn't know what to do at the time. He was distraught, you both were, and all he could think of was making sure that you were safe, that no matter what, you would be taken care of and protected. He loved you more than life itself, Starscream…that's why he left. He didn't want to take the chance of any of the mechs from the Clan who had assassinated your family coming after him and killing you as well. I wanted to make him stay, I couldn't imagine him taking off on his own to Primus-knew-where with those savages tracking him down like some non-sentient drone…" Again he stopped, hands falling limply into his lap and chassis sagging with the weight of vorns of pent-up anguish and regret.

Starscream was so caught up in what his creator had been saying that he almost didn't bother to take notice of why he had stopped talking, simply staring at the ground-bound mech with an expression that conveyed the utmost urgency.

He leaned forward, glancing at the older mech in a mixture of frustration and concern. Why would he stop now? Of all the times to become emotional he had to choose the one moment in which he could possibly reveal where Swiftwind had _gone_? Starscream furrowed his brow ridges again in confusion, opening his mouth to demand that Ratchet continue when he noticed the sheen of coolant gathering beneath the medic's optics.

He abruptly swallowed the scathing comments he had been about to release on his creator and sat perfectly still, unsure of what to do.

The only other mech he had ever seen cry was Skywarp, and that was only when his wing had nearly been shot off during a battle back on Earth…he had never seen Ratchet so emotional before. It shocked him a little that he had no idea what to do. He knew that he should say something, that he should attempt to comfort the older mech in some way or at least empathize with him, and truthfully he did. His spark had been constricting madly the entire time he had been listening to Ratchet talk, his processor racing desperately to remember what life had been like before that night…but unlike Ratchet, the news of his brother's heroic actions didn't make him want to cry. Knowing that Swiftwind had left to protect him only made him that much more intent on finding the mech and taking back their home.

He scooted closer to Ratchet on the couch, ducking his helm so that he could better look into the other mech's optics. The sadness coming from him was almost tangible in the air between them, radiating from his frame through his energy field and threatening to pull Starscream into the darkening abyss that his previously good mood had become. Regardless of the perils to his own mood, the Seeker pressed on. "I know it must have been hard for you." He said quietly as he reached to pull Ratchet into a loose but comforting embrace. "But what's done is done. You couldn't have changed his mind, you said yourself that he was hard-helmed..." He felt Ratchet bring his arms up to return the offered – and rare – affection, hugging him gently.

"But, I need to know where he went. I know that the past can't be changed, Ratchet, but the future _can_. I need to find my brother, and you're the only one who knows where he could possibly be." The feeling of Ratchet letting him go was unexpected, but by the time Starscream had registered that he was no longer holding the older mech he knew that he had made a mistake.

Ratchet sat back and looked at him with an indiscernible expression, optics narrowed slightly in either disbelief or confusion, Starscream couldn't tell.

He frowned at the Seeker, shaking his helm and looking away from him in favor of staring at the far wall. "Starscream, I don't know _where _Swiftwind went, or even where he would have _thought _of going." He ground out slowly, making the winged mech feel slightly guilty for not choosing his words more carefully.

There wasn't much he could say in the way of an apology, he wasn't a very sensitive mech when it came down to comforting others, whether they were his creator or not. He honestly hadn't meant to upset Ratchet by pressing him for more information when he should have been comforting him, but he had, and now there was no taking it back.

And, as long as he was being honest with himself, he really didn't feel that guilty about it. He was here for one reason and one reason only, and that was to find out where his brother was so that he could advance with his plans. The more time he wasted going back and forth with Ratchet, the more time he wasted on taking the vengeance he so rightfully deserved. The vengeance that was so close to coming to fruition…

He stood from the couch, pacing back and forth in front of it and forcing Ratchet to look at him in the process. "You said he talked about Kaon, right?" He asked, wings fanning out and flicking subconsciously as his spark pulsed faster in frustration. "Do you think he would have gone there?"

Ratchet shook his helm again, burying his face in his hands. "Starscream, even if he is in Kaon then Soundwave would be the only mech capable of tracking him down, and something tells me that he wouldn't be very enthusiastic about helping you." He growled.

"Besides, what would be the point? I miss Swiftwind too, but what good will finding him do you? Whatever it is you're planning on changing Starscream won't have any more odds of coming about just because you get Swiftwind involved." Though Ratchet didn't know of Starscream's plans, he knew the Seeker well enough to know when he was up to something, and he would be damned before he let him go running helm-first to his own death by trying to go to Kaon to find his brother.

"And Starscream, there's no guarantee that if and when you do find him that he'll be the same mech." He tried convincing the rapidly pacing flier before him, "It's been a long time since you two were separated, there's no telling how he's changed."

Starscream silenced him with a wave of his hand, stopping dead in his tracks and looking to the door of the small apartment longingly. "I don't care if he's changed, Ratchet. He's still my brother. I _need _to do this." His voice betrayed how worked up he was over what he had learned, its soft tone bleeding into one of yearning and doom-driven stubbornness.

Ratchet stood as well, wiping a hand down his face in exasperation. He knew better than to try and talk Starscream out of doing something he had his spark set on. And could he honestly blame him? The Seeker had little memories of his home and brother, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted to find the mech, to restore whatever relationship they might have had when they were younger.

He sighed and motioned toward the door, placing a hand on Starscream's shoulder and walking with him as they made their way back out to the hall.

He didn't want Starscream to leave. The visit had been far too short. Too rushed and chaotic for his liking. It seemed like the Seeker had just gotten here and was already leaving, and Ratchet felt his spark constrict painfully at the thought that he may not see Starscream again for another few orns. He had interrupted the flier before he could find out whether or not he was going to the reunion gala, but he supposed he could always call and ask Optimus if Starscream had said anything about it to him. He was sure that the Prime had invited him, but even so it was too long to go without talking to his own son.

Starscream seemed far too distracted with his current thoughts to pay Ratchet much attention, eyeing the far wall of the hallway again like he had been before. The lack of windows was still highly disturbing to him, and with his mind so frenzied and overwhelmed with the revelation that he may know where his brother was…well, he needed space, and he needed it now.

Ratchet frowned and managed to tear Starscream away from glancing at the wall long enough to swiftly hug him, forcing the younger mech to still himself. "Starscream, promise me that if you go to Kaon that you'll be careful." He said, taking no chances. He knew exactly how reckless Starscream was, and that was without being mentally compromised. He had made a note that Starscream's odd behavior wasn't due to the fact that he was going through the heat cycle…nonetheless he could tell that something had the Seeker visibly shaken and not quite himself.

He didn't ask though, Starscream was already far too perturbed and anxious to try and talk to now.

The young mech simply nodded, nuzzling the side of Ratchet's helm affectionately before pulling away and looking down the hall again. "I'll be fine. I've been to that Pit-hole of a city before and I know how to handle myself. Besides, with the right amount of credits I'm sure Soundwave could be persuaded to help me. The mech may be an emotionless drone, but even he isn't immune to the lure of money." He smirked, wings flicking to accent his point.

He gave Ratchet a wry smile, looking at the mech just long enough to see him smile worriedly back, before turning and trotting down the hall toward the lift.

He had just waved his hand in front of the pad and heard the tell-tale 'ding' of the opening doors when he registered Ratchet's voice again.

"Don't do anything you would normally do, Starscream!" He shouted, "Familiar faces or not, the mechs in Kaon aren't your friends anymore. Remember, you're an Autobot now…and they haven't forgotten that."

He took the words in carefully as he entered the lift, watching the doors shut and seeing his own reflection shining back at him as his spark sunk at the realization.

Yes, he had defected, but that hardly seemed like it would be a problem. The southern and northern empires were at peace with one another, unbelievably, and Megatron had made it very clear that he wasn't interested in any violence between citizens from either side.

But would that apply to him?

He may be a citizen of the northern empire and its states, but did that mean that Megatron wouldn't make an exception when it came to him and have him killed on sight for his betrayal during The War?

He sighed, feeling frustration and anxiety beginning to weigh down on him again. What other choice did he have? He couldn't back out now, not when he was so close to seeing justice done. Not when all he needed was his brother to begin seeing his plans come into action.

He steeled himself, hiking his wings up high on his back and forcing all thoughts of failure and fear from his mind.

He was going to go to Kaon. He was going to go to Darkmount and find Soundwave, and when he did he would pay whatever price the masked _drone _asked of him. Danger or not, he would be damned to the Pit before he gave up. He had waited far too long to seek his vengeance on the bastards responsible for his Clan's death to wait even a klik more.

Pushing the heavy feeling of dread from his spark, Starscream exited the lift, walking quickly through the lobby and ignoring the lighting fixtures that he admired so much as he headed for the door.

Kaon was all the way across the planet from Iacon, and seeing as how the northern states were flight-restricted that meant he would have to take transports like a common Groundling. And where transports were involved, so were numerous joors of cramped, uncomfortable travel from station to station just to reach the border to the Badlands.

But, it would all be worth it in the end. Just the thought of seeing his brother, of finally being able to do something more than grieve over the loss of a family that had been brutally ripped away from him…it would all be more than worth it.

He exited the apartment complex with his helm held high, normal façade of superiority in place and wings fanning out gently against the cool breeze.

Without giving himself any more time to let doubt or fear creep into his spark he began to make his way to the nearest transport loading station.

In a matter of joors he would be staring over the barren wastes that were Cybertron's Badlands.

And from there, Kaon awaited him.

* * *

Welp. I hope it wasn't as horrible as I think it is. :/

Honestly, though I finally managed to shape it into something _halfway _presentable, I've been so scatter-brained here recently that it's just not coming together the way I wanted it…hopefully things will get better after I get this stupid surgery out of the way. So, I'm sorry if this chapter seemed rushed and just generally awful, I promise I'll make it up to you with the next chapter.

Wanna know how? Megatron's in the next chapter! And Soundwave, for those of you who like Soundwave. (I like Soundwave)

Anyways, next chapter _should _be up next month, but don't hold me to it. I have no idea how the recovery process for this surgery is going to go so I can't make any guarantees. But I will try my hardest. =(

Thanks again for reading, let me know what you think! If you don't mind, that is…I can't force you to review or anything…not that I would…I'm not a mean person but you know…reviews are nice…

Just saying…

Totally not a review whore or anything…

Please love me… ;A;


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Yay! New chapter! Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites so far you guys! Any and all feedback makes me a very happy scraplet! =)

Oh, and my man-friend who I'm not currently seeing and have friend-zoned got me a Transformers: Prime Knock Out figure as a get well present, the deluxe one too! I have been obsessively cleaning him to protect him from the dust in my room so that he stays pristine! I now have all of the TFP Decepticon figures and Optimus, and yes, I make them do horrible things and put them in awkward positions for my parents to find. My Starscream and Megatron figures stay 'hugging' on my dresser while the numerous Eradicons I bought watch in horror, except for the one I laid meticulously in the floor who 'committed suicide,' that's Steve. The whole scene makes my friends laugh every time. I know…I need a life. Anyways….

**poisonouswaffle'n-stuffs:** Your reviews make me so happy! It's that kind of warm feeling that appears inside you like a million little bunnies are running around spreading love and cheer. Because you know, everyone loves that feeling. Especially me. Anyways, I do believe this chapter will make you happy, in a frustrated sort of way! Heh, heh, heh…

**fan girl 666:** Yay! Thanks for your review!

**LadyBonBon:** Warning; Soundwave imminent. Lol I love Soundwave, he's so fun to write, if only because of how stoic he is. And thank you so much for your continued support of this fic, it makes me happy to see feedback so that I know people are enjoying it, and your reviews always make me feel extra special. ^u^ And as for mechs being mean to Starscream, well…there are aftholes out there, but luckily Star can handle himself! Thanks so much for the review m'lady!

**IridescentMemory:** Thanks for the concern, and also for the review! I really enjoyed writing the last chapter and this one, mainly because of Megatron and Soundwave's involvement. I hope you enjoy it. =)

**grimlock47:** Dear Primus no…not _Shockwave_. I hate that mech. I just got rid of him after Broken Wings and you're going to set him loose on me again? T^T I thought you loved meeeeee….how could you be so cruel?! Lol I'm kidding, go ahead and send him, I'll molest him with my TFP Knock Out figure until he gets creeped out and leaves. Haha, thanks for the review! =)

**peppymint:** 'Warp and TC have most certainly not gotten their heads out of their afts…_yet_. The interactions between them and Starscream will have to wait until the next chapter, I'm afraid. And then they can stop being aftholes. Thanks for the review! =)

**tiedwithribbons:** Lol Soundwave couldn't get lucky enough to be bribed with sexual favors, I have the sad tendency to make him forever alone…not because I dislike him, far from it in fact! I just seem to omit the fact that he has mechly needs like everyone else. I'm a horrible person for that. And Skywarp and Thundercracker will get their afts thoroughly chewed out in due time, but this chapter is mainly about other things. Thank you for the review! =)

**I love all yaoi:** He will find what he's looking for eventually, but not without ample amounts of drama first. Thank you very much for your review!

Klik- Cybertronian minute

Joor- Cybertronian hour

Cycle- Cybertronian day

Decacycle- 10 cycles, but equivalent to a Cybertronian week just for the purposes of this fic :/

Orn- Cybertronian month

Vorn- um…a really long time? I guess…maybe…meh, we'll just let that be vague.

Meta (or meta-cycle)- Cybertronian year

It had been twelve joors since he had left Ratchet's apartment.

* * *

Twelve long, painful, _excruciatingly_ unbearable joors.

He had already taken two transports, one going from Iacon to Nova Cronum that had taken up three joors of his precious time, and another going from Nova Cronum to Tyger Pax which had taken five. Neither of the first two transports had been as awful and Primus-forsaken as the one he was on now, though.

There were no words in existence that could describe it.

When he had been waiting at Hydron-I, the mass boarding station in Tyger Pax, he had seen the transport ship come in to dock and, like all of the others, it was identical except for the sign on the top flashing its destination and route. While the sign itself wasn't odd, the large banner stretched across the ship's side displaying "Lucky Lugnut's Discount Transport Service" rose a red flag in Starscream's already taxed processor.

He didn't know who this "Lucky Lugnut" was _or_ why he had his own ship and didn't sell out to the northern states' main transport company, but he already knew that he wasn't going to enjoy the trip at all.

He couldn't have _possibly_ been more right.

From the moment he had boarded the small ship he had instantly regretted it, wishing for nothing more than the cool, flowing breeze breaking from around the Hydrax Plateau near Tyger Pax where he had been.

It had been a little over four joors since he had gotten on the transport, and within that amount of time he had lost count of the number of suicide thoughts that had crossed his mind. The hulking goliath of a mech next to him hadn't said so much as a word, and compared to the rest of the raucous crowd around them he was quite intimidating for it. Not to mention the huge oaf's lower back had pinned his wing to the wall when he had taken his seat.

He had already asked the mech to _kindly_ move so that he could save his aching appendage from further pain, but he had only received an intense, angry glare from the corner of the mech's optic for his efforts. Cowed by the unexpected response, he had been sitting just as silently the entire time.

It hadn't taken him long to notice that the mechs around him were from the southernmost city-states. Not only were they as loud and obnoxiously rude as any of the Badlands-born trash he had served with under Megatron, but the majority of them had a dark grey Decepticon insignia displayed proudly on their plating.

Starscream couldn't help but stare at the insignias, as he had been doing for the entirety of the trip. Even after he had defected to the Autobots he had never had his brands removed. To have them taken off of his wings would have been a far too complicated and painful procedure, one that he wasn't willing to undergo. But his brands were different from the insignias on the other mechs' plating. His were deep violet, the same and only color that he had ever seen the insignia, and they _were_ indeed brands. The grey emblems that he had been studying weren't brands at all, but decals.

He wasn't exactly sure why the mechs were wearing them, but he could only assume that it was something Megatron had imposed when he founded his new empire. He wouldn't put it past him; it did seem like something the tyrant would be arrogant and egotistical enough to do.

Still, he supposed that at least any citizens of the southern empire were lucky that they weren't actually forced to be branded and that being made to wear decals was as far as their proof of service to Megatron went. He could still feel the fire of the branding iron hot against his wings every time he thought about it.

Speaking of wings, he tried again to alleviate the pressure assaulting his left one, trying in vain to pull away from the mech and slide it out from behind his massive back.

The huge monstrosity had had his wing pinned to the wall for so long that it was numb, rendering him almost panicky with the need for relief. Starscream sighed loudly, trying to be as obviously distressed as possible to gain the mech's attention.

However, it seemed that his efforts went largely unnoticed.

The ground-pounder continued to sit completely still, optics narrowed and fixated on the space above another passenger's helm across the ship. Starscream could feel his spark constricting in both hopelessness and irritation as he stared at the enormous mass of scrap metal, wondering fruitlessly just how much processing power Primus had wasted on his miniscule little mind.

He flicked his free wing back against the wall, causing the tip to click a desperately annoyed cadence of increasing speed and volume. Through the angry, incredibly murderous haze his thoughts had been taken over by, he took note of the uncomfortable heat surrounding his plating. It seemed that not only did this "Lucky Lugnut" have a disgraceful sense of chosen business names, but that he was also a cheap, credit-hoarding swindler.

It had cost him twice as much to board this ship than the other two, and, in spite of the price, it had proven itself to be the most disgusting, rickety, _unbearable_ transport he had ever laid optics on. He cringed thinking of the amount of unclean, jagged rust he and all of the other passengers had been subjected to sit in, and not only was it unsanitary, but it seemed that "Lucky Lugnut" was too fond of his pilfered credits to spend even one of them on fixing the transport's busted ventilation system.

He sighed loudly again, pulling more desperately on his trapped wing and trying hard not to focus on how hot and miserable he was. When the mech still didn't take the hint, Starscream could think of nothing more to do than try and distract himself more thoroughly. He focused on the sound and feeling of his wingtip striking the wall, being both unable to stop himself and unwilling to relinquish the sheer sensation of it. After all, with his other wing completely numb it seemed only logical to hyper-sensitize the one that wasn't, even if all that gained him was sharp pinpricks of pain and further acknowledgement of the suffocating heat around him.

He couldn't wait for the transport to reach Tyrest, for the excruciatingly long and unbearable ride to be over with and his impromptu journey to be halfway complete.

He attempted to console himself thinking of how close he was; after all, Tyrest was the southernmost point of the northern empire, the border to the Badlands. And, where northern authority ended, so did all of the oppressive flight restrictions.

He sighed as contentedly as could with his wings sending mixed signals, knowing that soon enough he would be freed of all of his problems if only for a little while…if only for as long as he was able to take to the air and escape them. Already he could feel the cool caress of wind and freedom washing over his frame, the ground whipping away beneath him as he sped by overhead with such blinding intensity that everything else became nothing more than a blur…insignificant and too far below him to matter.

As images of the inky black sky above the Badlands began to take shape and whisk his mind away to far happier daydreams, he became all-too-aware of an increase in the already unbearable heat around him. Carefully – and in all honesty did he really want to know what he was being faced with? – he opened his optics into narrowed, seething slits of Pit-fire.

Directly in front of him stood a rather perturbed looking Groundling, his square-ish bulk bent over to better glare at the Seeker in an annoyed and accusing manner.

Starscream glared right back, free wing beginning to tap even more desperately against the wall behind him as irritation started to coil hotter in his spark, burning whatever was left of his already thin patience.

"Can I help you?" He ground out after a moment of eyeing the gaudily-painted mech, the intense yellow and orange paintjob searing his field of vision like a fire only serving to make his mood worse.

The mech straightened a bit at the question, optics narrowing and glancing from Starscream's twitching wing back to his face. "As a matter of fact, you can." He breathed, and immediately Starscream flinched away. Primus, he didn't think he had ever smelt high grade so strong on a mech before in his entire life…and that was saying something, especially considering how many times he had been verbally assaulted by Skywarp after a late night of getting drunk off his aft.

He took a moment to compose himself, trying to push back the urge to purge at the stench of booze and the awful heat of the Groundling invading his personal space, before looking at the mech again. He tilted his helm up, trying to look as sarcastic as possible as he gave the mech a saccharinely sweet smile, "Oh? And how might I assist you?" He asked venomously.

The ground-bound mech, for as over-energized as he was, seemed to know sarcasm when he heard it, and if the ugly expression his faceplates twisted into was any indication, he didn't particularly appreciate it. He leaned forward even more, face hovering mere inches from Starscream's, before he quickly reached out and pinned the Seeker's free wing to the wall, effectively stopping the clicking noises he had been making.

Starscream shrank back against the wall to lessen some of the uncomfortable pressure, denta bared and optics piercing into the mech hatefully. He attempted to pull himself free of the rough and unexpected grip, not liking his current predicament at all. "What the _frag_ do you think you're doing?" He hissed at the mech, squirming even more as he realized that now _both_ of his wings were pinned…that he was effectively trapped in a transport filled with nothing but hot and angry Groundlings.

The mech pressed harder on his wing, pushing his palm hard against the delicate metal until he felt it begin to bend in. With the uncompromising solidity of the wall behind it, Starscream realized that the mech could easily keep pressing until he crushed his wing completely.

Suddenly very aware of how dangerous the situation could become, he flashed the mech another smile, hoping that none of the panicky animosity he was feeling bled through.

The ground-bound mech continued to adorn his relentless frown, hand still resting heavily on Starscream's wing. "You flighty types don't seem to care much for other mechs around you, huh?" He asked languidly, his deep, drawling voice rumbling out every word as if they were insults and accusations. He leaned more heavily on the appendage he had trapped, taking in Starscream's faltering expression with something akin to humor. "These past few kliks you ain't been doing nothing but making a bunch of noise with this pretty little wing of yours…and I for one have had enough of it." His countenance hardened at that, hazy optics drifting from Starscream's face to rest on his captured wing.

The Seeker eyed him suspiciously, unsure of exactly how to react to the situation. On one servo, the drunken moron could actually damage his wing, rendering him incapable of flying – which he desperately needed to do after so many vorns – and he really didn't want that. But on the other, what right did he have to get upset over almost inaudible tapping sounds when the whole lot of ground-pounders aboard the transport had been shrieking and yelling at one another the entire time?

"Well excuse me for trying to distract myself from the deafening cacophony that you idiots call conversation!" He hissed in the mech's faceplates as he attempted to pull his wing free of the crushing grip. The pressure never stopped, no matter how fervently he tried to alleviate it. The mech simply continued to glare at him, hazy optics narrowing in obvious offense. Starscream felt his temper beginning to spiral out of control, a burning desire to do nothing more than lash out at the mech overtaking his mind and flinging him into a tantrum that would no doubt land him in a lot of trouble. However, he couldn't particularly bring himself to care; anything bad that happened would be well worth it as long as the fragger harassing him was put in his place.

He glared venomously at the mech, pushing himself up with as much strength as he could muster in such a position, and tried to seem as intimidating as possible. While he thought he looked the very picture of anger and defiance by trying to surge to his pedes to give the mech a piece of his mind, it seemed that the most his squirming was doing was attracting the attention of other mechs on the ship.

Oh well, let the morons look; he didn't care if all of them heard what he had to say.

Optics burning into those of his drunken captor, he scowled furiously. "For four joors I've been stuck on this pitiful excuse of a transport listening to you bolt-headed slaggers shout and laugh about the most ridiculous things on Cybertron while being pinned to the wall by _boulder-aft_ here," at that he gestured wildly to the goliath mech beside him, "and you think you've got the right to be annoyed over a few Primus-damned clicks?! Who in The Pit do you think you _are_?!" He shrieked loudly, trying his best to dislodge himself from the painful grip and tear the ignorant mech to shreds.

His screeching did little more than draw the attention of anyone who hadn't already been listening, and those who had heard him all adopted looks of offense and disbelief.

And, even though he knew he was only digging himself into a hole that he was highly unlikely to come out of, he just couldn't bring himself to stop. How long had it been since he had last argued with anyone? Or insulted a mech just because he felt like it? Or insulted a mech because he actually _deserved_ it…? Primus it was an intoxicating feeling, and try as he might – though he really _wasn't_ trying – he had no intention of ending his tirade any time soon.

The mech had yet to respond to him, expression showing how blatantly surprised he was, and with his silence Starscream saw nothing but opportunity. He built himself up on the raging turmoil in his spark, processor supplying more than enough pent-up vorns of stress and irritation for him to release on the unsuspecting mechs around him. Without thinking he threw up a hand, jabbing a sky-blue finger into the Groundling's chestplates, "You fraggers have done nothing but yell and argue over 'who's tapped the most aft in the past orn,' and I swear to Primus if I've been able to sit here and listen to all of your crude _overload_ imitations and disgusting bragging while being cemented to the damned wall by this enormous, unwashed, oversized Constructicon _knock_-_off _then I think you can handle a few Unicron-accursed clicking noises!" He accentuated his point by tapping the mech's chestplates with each harsh word, his normally schooled features dark with venomous animosity.

"And furthermore, us '_flighty types_' as you so eloquently put it, have the utmost respect for the mechs around us, which is a courtesy that in the last few miserable metas of my life that has not been extended back to me! Every cycle it's nothing but 'oh look at the Seeker,' and 'watch out for the freak with wings,' _or_, and this is one of my favorites, 'fliers are nothing but shrieking savages!' Well you know what, I sure as The Pit haven't tried to start a fight with you fools, and for the entire trip I've ignored this hulking _beast_ beside me while he grinds my wing into dust! And come to think of it, I even _politely_ asked him to move, and what did I get? Ignored, that's what! So if you want to point fingers at anyone who's been impolite or obnoxious on this transport, then you'd better be pointing at yourself!"

By the time he finally stopped screaming he could hardly breathe, every intake of stuffy, hot air causing his chestplates to rise and fall dramatically. His wings, as trapped as they were, were trembling with anger and the relief of vorns of pent-up anxiety. He continued to glare at the shocked mech before him, spark still pulsing furiously even as he started to come down from his conflict-induced high.

The Groundling stared slack-jawed at him, his optics wide with uncertainty and what appeared to be gradual – albeit offended – understanding. He took a quiet step back, heavy hand sliding from Starscream's sore wing and falling back against his side in a sheepish manner.

The transport remained silent, all of the mechs onboard eyeing the two of them with mixed expressions and closed postures. The majority of them looked almost apologetic, staring at the Seeker as if they had done him the greatest injustice in the world. However, a select few just sneered at him and turned back to their previous activities. Starscream couldn't really bring himself to care what they thought, whether they took his little rant as something to take into consideration or simply shrugged it off was their own decision, all that mattered to him was that he had justified himself. And he had done so rather spectacularly.

The now partly-sobered mech cast his optics to the floor, bringing a hand to the back of his neck cables and rubbing them as he thought. Starscream lowered his own hand from the mech's chestplates, no longer needing it for emphasis now that he had gotten his point across.

"I uh…I guess we're both in the wrong then." The Groundling stated as he slumped his shoulders forward, obviously realizing that he had picked the wrong mech to start a fight with…well, a verbal one at least.

Starscream glared incredulously at him, "_Both_?" He growled, hands clenching into tight blue fists and another heated rant ready to spring from his lips.

The mech quickly caught onto his mistake and held his hands up to placate the Seeker, a rushed string of apologies spilling forth as he moved back across the ship, "_I _was in the wrong! Me, not you! I'm sorry, okay? Can't you give a mech a break?" He spluttered hurriedly. Before Starscream could reply with a callous 'Pit no,' the mech had turned back to his group of equally cowed friends and was suitably out of range for anymore harsh insults.

He acted on the childish instinct to hiss at the rude idiot before glaring at each of the mechs who hadn't already looked away or gone back to their previous conversations, content with the knowledge that he had successfully put them in their places.

With a ruffled sigh he sank back into his seat, freed wing fanning out against the wall.

The transport slowly came back to life with the low buzz of multiple conversations going on at once, though thankfully the overbearing bouts of laughter and lewd jokes stayed out of audio-range.

Starscream smirked victoriously to himself in the wake of the new, much more comfortably-quiet atmosphere. _Should've spoken up sooner_, he thought dryly, his interrupted daydreams beginning to seep back to the forefront of his processor as he relaxed.

He settled himself more comfortably against the wall, closing his optics and preparing to give himself over to the sweet lure of his flight-obsessed fantasies…until he suddenly felt an absence of pressure on his left wing.

He shifted in his seat, moving over further than he had been able to the entire time. When there was no resistance to his movement, no searing pain against the base of his wing or sore throbbing spreading from his wing to his back, he paused. That was certainly odd, his left wing was pinned behind that giant oaf…so how could he possibly move so far if…

A gust of humid, oil-scented air hit him in the face like a tidal wave, its potent stench causing him to curl further into his seat as his optics flew open in alarm.

He soon realized why he was able to move from his previously stuck position, and in that moment he didn't think he had ever wanted so badly for the agonizing pressure to return to his wing with a vengeance.

The massive mech who had been making his entire ride miserable for the past four joors had finally showed signs of life…by positioning his hulking frame directly in Starscream's personal space.

Starscream curled into himself as far as he could, trying to get away from the overpowering smell of the brute's ex-vents even as the mech loomed closer.

He put on the prettiest smile in his arsenal, a nervous laugh falling from his lips. "Is there…um, something I can do for you?" He asked meekly, forcing himself to appear as innocent and oblivious as possible.

Unfortunately, the enormous mech didn't fall for it.

He raised a bulky, massive fist, faceplates curled into a gruff snarl. "Who're you calling _boulder-aft_?!" He ground out, and before Starscream could even think to try and react the fist came flying forward.

* * *

As much as he was loathe to admit it, he knew he should have kept his mouth shut.

The stinging gash on his lower lip from where the monster had punched him was, thankfully, the worst of his lasting injuries.

Of course, the brute's retribution for a few off-handed and, in Starscream's personal opinion at least, _deserved_ insults hadn't ended with one punch. No, the hulking piece of cannon fodder hadn't been content until he had flung him around the ship enough times to make his faceplates familiar with every square inch of it.

When Starscream had finally woken up after his impromptu beating he had found himself unceremoniously dumped on the southernmost landing platform in Tyrest, surrounded by a group of chattering and smirking Groundlings with his aft in the air.

Primus, as if the fact that he'd been flung around like a limp turbo-fox hadn't been bad enough…

He at least consoled himself with the offered assistance of one of the more polite mechs. Perhaps the only one who wasn't an insensitive _pervert_…

The annoying little glitch had been kind enough to lend him a med-kit, complete with enough pain-suppressants to sedate Devastator, no doubt, which he had made full use of. The mech had helped him stagger off of the landing platform and into a nearby energon café while he was…indisposed, and had carried out a different number of repairs that would have hindered his capability to stand on his own two pedes if not promptly taken care of.

And he supposed he was grateful towards him…even if the most he had done when he had come out of his drug-induced stupor joors later was kick the mech away from him and stumble back outside to the landing platform…where he remained now…

Primus he was a jerk…well, a stunningly beautiful and intelligent jerk, but a jerk nonetheless.

Oh well, he had more important things to worry about. Things like getting across the plains of the Badlands and to Kaon to speak with Soundwave. _If_ Soundwave would even speak to him…

He forced himself to fight back a worried groan at that, knowing that there was a chance that Soundwave wouldn't help him no matter how many credits he offered the mech. After all, Soundwave was about as credit-hungry as a mindless drone…and just as blindly obedient to Megatron.

There was a high possibility that he resided within Darkmount, still following Megatron around and attending to his every whim with as much disgusting sycophancy as before. But then again he could have departed from the Decepticon stronghold as well…could have went his own way, perhaps tried to make a living doing something other than being a glorified comm. unit.

Starscream really wasn't sure where he was. He had no way of contacting the mech, having deleted any and all Decepticon comm. frequencies when he had defected, and hadn't bothered to think that Soundwave may have left after The War had ended. The thought crossed his mind that he could have come all this way for nothing…that he could have come so close to being able to enact his plan for vengeance, only to see it shot down. Soundwave being able to find his brother meant everything, and it filled his spark with dread to think that he may not be at Darkmount at all.

The Seeker shook his helm quickly, abruptly ending the depressing train of thought before it could take his processor over and ruin any momentum he had for seeing his plan through. Starscream sighed quietly, he knew better than to think that, after all it _was_ Soundwave he was talking about. Soundwave wouldn't have strayed from Megatron's side even if he was offered all of the credits in the universe. He would be at Darkmount, and if Starscream handled the situation correctly, he would be more than willing to help him.

However, getting to Darkmount was his biggest problem.

He sat looking out at the ridge spanning into the horizon on either side of him, his optics transfixed on the deep golden-brown glow of the Sea of Rust surging hundreds of meters below.

While it wasn't a literal sea filled with rust, it was a mass of debris floating solidly on top of a sea of energon. And, after more and more debris had piled onto what had already existed before The War, it had adopted its name. After so many eons of shifting silently along with no attempts to remove it, the debris had rusted over and solidified into one massive sea of jagged, dangerous metal.

Normally Starscream would have thought nothing of it, having far more pressing matters to concern himself with than a death-trap so far below him and seemingly of no significance.

However, he wasn't completely convinced that after so many vorns of flightlessness that he would be able to take to the air as flawlessly as he once had. All his processor was willing to supply him with were thoughts of the numerous flight restrictions that had bound him for so many vorns…not the encouragement to take to the sky and rule it that he so desperately needed. His wings trembled in the warm, welcoming breeze around him, sensor-net coming to life and picking up on every minor change in air current and temperature that it hadn't been able to for the vorns that he had forced it into inactivity.

He pried his optics away from the drop-off, reminding himself how unlikely it was that he would fall off of it and somehow miraculously forget how to fly.

Carefully, almost feeling unbalanced on his thrusters, he stood and made his way off of the landing platform. He descended the ramp slowly, in no particular hurry to make it to the edge of what many considered oblivion, and approached the edge of the steep cliff.

The canyon created by the Sea of Rust represented the border between both empires on Cybertron, its expanse nearly splitting the planet into two perfect halves, two equal hemispheres on which the mechs ruling them could do whatever they pleased.

While there was a bridge that stretched across the desolate wasteland that allowed mechs to cross between north and south, Starscream wasn't particularly interested in walking…nor was he willing to board another transport to take him across until he was _properly_ out of northern jurisdiction.

He stepped to the edge of the drop-off, planting his pedes firmly on the ground to keep from swaying too much as he took in the sight so far below him. A sudden nervousness was beginning to creep into his spark, poisoning all of the confidence he had been building up…he wasn't so sure he could do this anymore…didn't know if he could still fly after being grounded for so long.

It was painful, knowing that he was shying away from the very thing he loved most in life, but as he watched the desolate wasteland move idly along so far below, he felt his spark constricting with fear and unease.

What if he really _had_ forgotten how to fly? What if when he sent the command to activate his thrusters nothing happened, sending him plummeting to his doom hundreds of meters down...? Or what if his wings couldn't register the feel of the wind, his sensor-net glitching and sending him into a fear-stricken panic?

He shuddered hard at the thoughts, seeing himself crash and perish dozens of times over in his mind. His head was spinning with the horrors plaguing his thoughts before he could even attempt to close the floodgates, scene after scene of painful, excruciating, humiliating death popping to the forefront of his processor as he stood rigidly on the razor's edge of a sheer ninety-degree drop.

Amidst all of his terrified imaginings of gruesome offlinings he could barely grasp onto the sound of his own conscience chastising him, an angry, disappointed voice – his own voice, now that he thought about it – supplying him with numerous reasons as to why he shouldn't be worrying about dying.

What in The Pit was _wrong_ with him? He didn't understand it. He was _Starscream_, former Air Commander of one of the mightiest armies to ever exist! Fearless ruler of the skies, the fastest and most skilled flier to ever grace Cybertron! The very notion that he had forgotten how to fly should seem like a joke…

But it _didn't_.

His spark pulsed with so many different turbulent emotions that for a split second he thought he might actually be having a panic attack. He knew better, though. After everything he had been through during his lifecycle if he hadn't had a panic attack or been thrown into fits of hyperventilation before, then he sure as The Pit wasn't going to now.

He steeled himself, sparing one last glance at the Sea of Rust below him before squinting to get a better view across the canyon. Of course with the border between both respective empires being so close to one another, there were suitable precautions that had been taken to ensure the safety and separation of their citizens.

Near the boarding platform, not so far behind him, Autobot guards and patrol-mechs were doing their duty to observe not only northern citizens, but any working or visiting southern citizens as well. They were not there to instill fear or suspicion into any mech, but were simply doing their job, ensuring that no one broke the law or tried to pass from north to south without having been issued through clearance first.

There was a similar checkpoint on the southern side ran by Decepticon enforcers and guards, and while they were more lenient than any northern mechs might be, they would still require clearance from anyone looking to pass into the Badlands.

Starscream scoffed at that, obtaining clearance to get across was a long, complicated and drawn-out ordeal that could take a joor or more. It often meant that his name would be run through both databases, and that as long as his name didn't have a restricted hold on it he would be allowed to pass. However, he knew that after what had happened when he had defected that Megatron would have most likely had his name put at the top of the list of mechs not allowed within his empire…if not at the top of his hit list.

He couldn't wait for clearance, and he definitely wasn't going to take a chance on being denied it.

With both his mind made up and his spark gradually slowing to a steady, confident pulse, he turned his gaze away from the trivialities around him, optics drifting shut and intakes pulling in a steady breath of warm, freeing air.

The thoughts that had previously been plaguing him no longer had time to cross his mind, every last shred of doubt and fear flowing from him in the instant that he fanned out his wings and allowed his pedes to leave the ground…

He fell forward willingly, allowing gravity to take him and pull him over the edge of the cliff and into a perilous helm-first dive toward the wasteland below.

Starscream only briefly wondered how the mechs behind him had reacted, if they had been surprised or horrified to see him simply fall over the edge and seemingly to his death – but as the rush of air and weightlessness began to register to him, he finally found that he could care less…that they didn't matter.

He reveled in the feeling of wind against his wings and the overwhelming sensation of freedom, knowing that all around him the world was flying by at an increasingly quickening pace, and that at any moment he could simply choose to evade death, to become the master of his own fate…to _control_ what happened, when it happened, and no longer be a slave to the dominating restrictions and laws of Groundlings.

And it felt _amazing_.

The warm air of the surrounding atmosphere bit into his frame and flowed smoothly around him, the sensation so familiar and yet uniquely new after so many vorns of depravation. He felt himself smiling before he had any conscious urge to, his spark leaping with intense elation and relief as he sped toward the Sea of Rust, its jagged masses of debris rushing up at him at an alarmingly fast pace.

It wasn't until the finely-tuned and newly-awakened sensors in his wings picked up his proximity to the danger below him that he opened his optics, seeing the ground speeding up to meet him, eager to claim any life that it could.

His smile never faded, even as he activated his thrusters for the first time in what felt like an eternity, his wings catching an updraft of warm Badlands air and fanning out to slow his descent. He twisted around expertly, body guided by instinct alone and sensor-net alive with a rejuvenated craving for flight. With less than an astrosecond to spare he kicked his thrusters into full power, rocketing away from the wasteland beneath him and into the starry blackness of Cybertron's night sky.

The Sea of Rust disappeared within mere moments, the ground and all of its inhabitants and laws passing beneath him in a blur of dark blue and grey, too far away to hold him anymore…

As he flew, frame weightless and bleeding itself free of stress and vorns of hardship, Starscream allowed his mind to wander…for once, for as little time as he had in the sky where he _belonged_, he would let himself be happy…

There were no thoughts of vengeance, none of Soundwave or Megatron or even the looming uncertainty of his own future…there was only the sky.

And for now, that was all that mattered.

He ignored the desolate expanse of uninhabited plains beneath him, soaring overhead in his domain and leaving the perils and loneliness of the Badlands below. Soon enough he would reach Kaon, and when he did he would focus on what had pushed him into taking his ill-fated trip to begin with.

But until then he was perfectly content to lose himself in the wondrous freedom that was the sky, far away from the worries of the world, and far away from whatever fate had in store for him.

* * *

Kaon was, when he had first seen it, the most disgusting, forsaken city-state he had ever had the displeasure of setting pede in.

Its smoldering atmosphere had been choked and thick with smoke from the smelting pits and energon mines that it was known for, bathing its gruff inhabitants in grimy dust and ash. If anything it had suited the mechs who took residence within the city, marking them and dirtying them so that they reflected on the outside how twisted and dark they were within.

Starscream could still vividly remember how horrified he had been to see the amount of unhindered violence that had gone on in the streets below him, mechs killing one another for however many measly credits they could scrounge from the equally poor or crafty people around them. Such barbarism…and for seemingly no reason at all.

But, like many of the city-states in the Badlands, the mechs living there had had many good reasons for being the brutish criminals and thugs that they were. They hadn't started out that way, of course. No, Kaon, like so many other southern states, had been neglected by the now-destroyed Senate and its corruption. The mechs who had slaved away in the mines and factories had been paid little-to-no wages for their hard work, and eventually it showed. Kaon had gotten the worst of it, the Senate's neglect and apathetic nature towards those they considered no more than slaves had been a sign to its people. With no one to watch them, no one to instill authority – because honestly the Senate couldn't have cared less who in the southern states lived or died – the working mechs of Kaon turned from their low-paying jobs and sought out a better means of living through petty crime.

And, as its people broke down, so too did the city's infrastructure.

Soon enough Kaon had turned from an industrial powerhouse into something far less appealing. It had been, as Starscream remembered it, a city of shabby, decrepit old buildings and seedy bars, the majority of its transformed industry being mining, weapons factories, or the lure of its many pleasure-drone filled nightclubs. Not to mention the massive underground arena that drew throngs and throngs of mechs from all over Cybertron, pitting those who were either strong enough or stupid enough against one another in the bloody sport of gladiatorial combat. It had been quite a lucrative business, and Starscream wouldn't deny that it was a certain gladiator and his captivating power that had drawn him to Kaon for the first time so many metas ago.

Still, what he had gotten upon returning to the Decepticon empire's capital city-state was far from what he had been expecting.

Kaon was now…_beautiful_. Breathtakingly so.

As he stared down at the city from what he could only suppose was one of Darkmount's ramparts, he couldn't help but find himself enthralled with how much the city had changed.

Whereas it had previously been a pit of darkened scrap metal – both it and its citizens – it was now glowing with the renewed hum of many mechs…enjoying themselves.

The buildings had been restored; tall skyscrapers rising up into the night proudly, scintillating glass windows tinted to a deep black. While the color of the windows were dark in their own way, they had a surprisingly wonderful effect when the lights from advertisement signs or street lamps reflected off of them, lighting the whole city up with so many brilliant colors that Starscream couldn't help but be reminded of what the humans had named the Aurora Borealis on Earth.

He used to speak of it during The War so often…how many times during late-night meetings with Megatron had he commented to his ex-leader that it was the only thing about Earth he could stand? Too many times to count. He doubted that Megatron had ever paid his thoughts any attention, though.

Aside from the restored buildings there were a number of other improvements. The streets had been touched up, no longer jagged or stained with energon and the marked outlines of where a mech's body had fallen when he was killed, but now pristine and being walked by the reformed citizens as they went about their nightly tasks in a leisurely manner. The former factory buildings had been done away with, recreational areas and crystal gardens – part of the reason there were so many brilliant variations of color in the city's lights – having replaced them.

Starscream sighed wistfully at the sight, Kaon was now truly a city that could match Iacon in its beauty…if not surpass it. And to think that Megatron was responsible for such a drastic change. A change for the better.

He almost wasn't willing to believe it, really. After all it _was_ Megatron he was talking about, the very same mech who had razed half of Cybertron to the ground. The one mech who was so feared, so infamous for his annihilative power, that he was universally renowned for being the bringer of destruction and death…and yet here he had not only _not_ destroyed something, but had made it better…

Starscream felt his spark tighten in both uncertainty and curiosity at that revelation. Perhaps he had made a mistake when he had judged his former leader as incapable of peace; Incapable of change, as well.

He looked out at the expansive city again, taking in as much as he could see. Now was not the time to be worrying about past mistakes, after all, he was not here to admire what Megatron had done with the place, but to speak with Soundwave about finding his brother. Still, the lights were gorgeous, and he quickly found himself losing focus of his current objective the longer he took the time to stare at them.

With a small hum of approval he turned his optics away from the simulated aurora, thruster heels clicking against the fortified metal of Darkmount's unguarded rooftop as he made his way to one of the fortress's many entrances.

It had not taken him long to find his way around once he was inside, Darkmount had at one time been his home, the same as most mechs who had joined Megatron's cause early on in his fledgling rebellion. However, just because he knew his way around didn't mean that he could freely roam the halls.

Whereas Darkmount's roof had been unguarded, its interior certainly wasn't.

Starscream recognized many of the mechs patrolling the halls, having served with them during The War. They were all carrying blasters, of course, holstered to their hip plating as they carried on jovial conversations and went about their business; completely oblivious to his presence as he snuck along in the ample amount of shadows provided by the customarily dim lighting.

He had been searching for a little over a breem now, carefully winding his way through the maze-like halls and meticulously avoiding detection from the very mechs who had been his subordinates so many vorns ago.

He had almost been caught by Motormaster at one point, the hulking Stunticon gestalt leader having missed hitting him with his shoulder by mere inches as he had passed, optics dim with exhaustion and thankfully so. If he had been more alert then Starscream was sure he would have spotted him, after all, his paintjob wasn't exactly right for trying to blend in with shadows.

After what had seemed like forever he had finally come across a hall that wasn't swarming with his former comrades, its wide, dark expanse stretching on until it ended at two large doors. Two large doors that had been left wide _open_.

He knew exactly where this hall led, what room those doors belonged to, and even as his spark leapt with apprehension and fear, he pushed his pedes into action.

His wings dipped low on his back as he walked, pace light and steady. If he knew Soundwave, which he did, then he surmised that the stoic mech would be within the enormous room that he was approaching, working diligently away on some form of legislation or law-making that his beloved leader – well, _emperor – _ should be working on himself.

And, as he silently passed through the doorway and into Megatron's throne room, he was not disappointed to find that he was right.

There, at a terminal along the far wall of the massive room, stood Soundwave, his back turned to the Seeker and his attention focused solely on the screen in front of him.

Seeing as how he was distracted, Starscream took a moment to observe the luxurious area around him, noticing that Megatron had changed much about Darkmount as well. And, to his delight, he noticed that his former leader was not currently occupying his throne as he had been expecting.

With quiet interest he allowed his gaze to roam around the room, taking in every little detail as he came across the numerous improvements that had been made. Early on in The War Darkmount had been an impregnable fortress, a symbol and testament to the strength and power of the Decepticon cause. It had served a strictly militaristic purpose, and Megatron hadn't spared any credits on useless décor. Now, however, Darkmount had been reformed like the rest of his city. It was still a fortress, still the same symbol of strength and power, but now it held the same opulent feel of a palace.

This room in particular had been made into a space truly fit for a king. A king with Megatron's particular taste in decoration.

It was spartanly furnished, only the Decepticon emperor's immaculate throne in the center of the room, and a small chair for Soundwave as he worked. Taking up the entire back wall was a massive mural, dark strips of inky blackness and violet emblems of roiling fire snaking from the outskirts of the wall to encircle the Decepticon insignia painted largely in the center.

Starscream's optics lingered on the work of art for a long moment, admiring it's tribal feel even as his processor tried to adapt to the fact that Megatron had ordered it to be painted there in the first place. He never knew that an ex-gladiator and warlord could have such a refined and cultured taste in what he surrounded himself with, but the more he looked around, the more he found that he had quite obviously underestimated the intelligence of his former master.

He took in the mural, the communications terminal, the deep violet tapestries hanging from the ceiling and flowing gently in the warm Kaon breeze…and lastly, he took in the magnificent view of the re-made city from the sweeping balcony that spanned across what used to be the front wall.

It was quite a beautiful sight to behold, all things considered. The many different-colored lights and towering buildings sweeping below, stretching into the horizon, and the black Kaon sky dotted with stars and the simulated aurora above made for a truly enthralling view.

Starscream paced over to the balcony, leaning over the imported marble railing and staring out at the aurora with something akin to wonder. Megatron had truly outdone himself…not that he would ever admit it aloud.

Satisfied with his sight-seeing, Starscream languidly pushed himself up and turned around, wings fanning out to frame his body in a display of confidence and aloof composure. He leaned back against the railing behind him, eyeing the still-oblivious mech across the room from him. While Soundwave was a telepath, Starscream was a genius. He had always kept his mental barriers in place when around the mech, and even after so many vorns of not dealing with him on a daily basis, he still found that it would be better to guard his thoughts than to allow Soundwave full access to his mind. Besides, the fact that he had his mental barriers in place was the only reason that Soundwave hadn't yet noticed his presence, still fully absorbed in his task and none-the-wiser to the Seeker trespassing in his emperor's fortress.

Starscream almost laughed at the thought. Here he was _trespassing_ in the very place that used to be his home, and Soundwave – ever vigilant, watchful Soundwave – had yet to notice. It was comical, really.

Still, as much as he wanted to insult the communications mech for his lack of diligence, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Besides, making the telepath angry surely wouldn't help him. He needed Soundwave to be cooperative, not peeved off at him for a few off-handed insults.

With a saucy smirk he reigned in his wandering thoughts, making sure that he looked the very picture of calm, collected brilliance, and addressed the busy mech.

"Hello, Soundwave." His voice carried through the room with the wind, its soft, light tone echoing off the walls.

The dark blue mech froze where he stood, hands stilling over the keyboard he had been typing on and visor flashing with sudden interest. It was obvious that he hadn't been expecting company, and Starscream knew him well enough to know that he was thoroughly surprised at being snuck up on, even if his mask and visor prevented any expression from showing through.

Slowly, he turned to face his visitor, and with no small amount of curiosity found himself looking at a very familiar Seeker.

At first glance Soundwave appeared to be very surprised with his presence, the navy mech's visor brightening in consideration and studying him closely.

He almost gave off the impression of not remembering who he was looking at, but all-too-soon he spoke out in the same monotonous voice that Starscream had grown so used to not hearing over the vorns.

"Observation; Starscream had vocalizer repaired." He said blankly, though his frame radiated with interested caution. He had quite clearly made that statement to mollify himself, having been surprised to find the Seeker staring back at him when, by the sound of Starscream's new voice, he had been expecting a complete stranger.

However, the moment of brief recognition didn't last. Soundwave swept his gaze across the room, searching either for other trespassers or the mechs who had let Starscream in. When his scan revealed that the two were alone, he looked back to slight flier before him.

He wasn't sure how he had been so oblivious to Starscream's presence, especially considering that Starscream was about as quiet and inconspicuous as an upset sparkling. Even his telepathy hadn't registered the presence of another mind so close to him. But then again, Starscream had always been good at hiding his thoughts behind his meticulously well-kept mental barriers, and it seemed that the Seeker had apparently developed a sense of stealth as well.

That wasn't what had Soundwave so curious, however. Starscream had defected before The War's end, so what would possibly bring him back to Kaon now? And furthermore, would he still be up to his old tricks? Starscream was nothing if not unpredictable, and paired with his cunning, volatile personality he could be quite the handful to deal with. And alone as he was, Soundwave wasn't at all comfortable with the situation. He pinned Starscream under his watchful gaze, trying to delve into the Seeker's mind, but being easily thwarted.

"Query; what brings Starscream to Kaon?" He finally intoned, still as blunt and to the point as ever.

Starscream shifted a bit on his pedes and gave Soundwave a calculating and appraising once over, optics pinning the mech with cold disdain. He had never liked Soundwave, and Soundwave had never liked him, but even though he could attempt being coy with the austere Groundling he knew that Soundwave would see right through him. There was no sense in putting on an act when dealing with a telepath, even if the mech couldn't read his thoughts he certainly knew him well enough to distinguish when he was lying.

Starscream let out a sharp huff and turned his gaze away from the mech, looking over his shoulder and down at the surprisingly beautiful city beneath them. "I've come seeking your assistance in a matter very dear to me, Soundwave." He drawled, vocals coming out in a smooth, soft purr.

He glanced over at the blocky mech and noticed that he hadn't moved at all, his visor still glinting brightly, the same as before.

Fearing that he would be turned down so soon, he quickly added, "I would be glad to pay you for your services, of course." A smile graced his features and he finished the offer by pulling his credit card from subspace and holding it up for the mech to see, "And might I just say, no price is too high when one has a vast amount to spend on services rendered."

Soundwave tilted his helm slightly at that, but showed no indication of having heard him. Instead, he ignored the offer altogether.

"Query; how did Starscream get into Darkmount?" He asked.

Starscream felt indignation rise within him at having had his generous offer overlooked so blatantly, and was almost tempted to throttle the other mech for acting like an offensive, hard-helmed drone…until he remembered that it _was_ Soundwave he was dealing with, and that Soundwave had always been a bit of a hassle to manipulate.

Regardless of that fact, he sighed huffily and motioned vaguely toward the direction he had come in from. "Soundwave, it isn't that hard to get into a place when you know it like the back of your servo…it also helps when the only guards are daft Groundlings who can't tell their helms from their afts." He said curtly.

Soundwave didn't seem convinced, but remained quiet nonetheless.

He stared at Starscream intensely for what seemed like breems before finally turning away and pacing toward the hall, "Starscream; please excuse Soundwave. Soundwave; will return shortly." He droned, and after a few long strides, disappeared through the large doors of Darkmount's throne room.

The Seeker was silent for a long moment, simply staring after the mech with an incredulous and indignant expression. That hadn't gone at all the way he'd wanted it to…

He had been so sure that Soundwave would have accepted the credits and let their impromptu little meeting slide…but in all honesty he should have known better than that. Now the glorified lap dog was no doubt scurrying through the halls looking for Megatron, and Starscream wasn't entirely certain if he should call his visit a lost cause and flee…or stay and see how things played out.

On one hand, he needed Soundwave's help to find his brother. Without Swiftwind's assistance then his plan would fail, and without Soundwave there was no Swiftwind. He couldn't let himself come this far only to give up now…to let the madmechs who had destroyed his Clan go unpunished.

But, he didn't particularly fancy seeing Megatron again either.

The Decepticon emperor would no doubt not take kindly to him breaking into his palace, and if Megatron was still holding a grudge about him defecting – which Starscream knew he was – then he was fairly certain that he wouldn't get a warm welcome from the mech.

If anything he'd be surprised if the worst he got from Megatron were a few scathing words…that was to say nothing of the possibility of getting a fusion cannon blast to the spark chamber.

He sighed dismally, feeling his spark sinking with dread as he turned back to the view of Kaon behind him. Leaning against the railing he rested his chin in his hands, staring at the comforting and beautiful sight of the simulated aurora as he waited for the inevitable.

* * *

Of all the things he had been expecting when Soundwave had approached him in his quarters, it hadn't been this.

No, like any other time the communications expert had required his assistance he had expected there to be a matter of urgency, a crisis or some other form of political disaster that he would have to deal with. But not this.

As he had walked with Soundwave through Darkmount he had wondered exactly what it was that had the stoic mech so uneasy. Soundwave was normally unflappable, letting nothing change his composed, emotionless demeanor, but Megatron could easily tell when his friend was uncomfortable with something. He hadn't expected another mech to be the source of Soundwave's discomfort, though. Especially not the one mech on Cybertron that was capable of breaking even his legendary composure.

But there he was, leaning against the railing of _his_ balcony and staring out at the city beneath him with an indiscernible and impatient expression on his dark face.

Megatron almost stopped, almost turned around and walked away. After all that happened because of Starscream. After what Starscream had done to end The War…Sure, it may have been for the overall good of Cybertron and both factions at the time, but in the end betrayal was betrayal. And Megatron had no interest in speaking with a traitor.

Starscream had yet to notice him, his bright crimson optics riveted to the dark Kaon sky, wings fanning slowly on his back in either boredom or uncertainty. Megatron couldn't tell.

He passed a weary glance to Soundwave, expecting an explanation from the quiet mech. Soundwave didn't say anything, however, but instead inclined his helm toward Starscream, almost as if he were waiting for his leader to speak first.

Megatron was reluctant to say anything to break the silence, though. He hadn't seen Starscream since The War's end, not since he had encountered him in the hallway at the Decagon and practically bared his spark to him in a look that he _knew_ the Seeker couldn't have been dull enough not to understand. But Starscream hadn't followed him then…no, he had returned to Prime like some love-struck youngling, allowing the Autobot leader to fawn over him and flaunt his adoration of him right in front of everyone.

Every time he thought about it his spark twisted hotly with anger, a potent rage coiling within him and threatening to burst free at the most inopportune times.

Times much like this one. Though in all honesty he hadn't expected to ever see the Seeker again.

Soundwave seemed to realize that his leader wasn't too keen on confronting his former second-in-command, and stepped into the room ahead of him. Perhaps if he were the one to break the ice, Megatron would find the situation easier to deal with.

As he approached Starscream he was all-too-aware of his leader following closely behind him, frame tense and radiating with no small amount of uncertainty and anger.

"Starscream; discuss business with Lord Megatron. Soundwave; will await orders." He announced as he neared the Seeker, causing the smaller mech to jump in surprise.

The telepath smirked behind his mask, it served the brat right for sneaking up on him.

Starscream turned away from the balcony reluctantly, his optics narrowing at the telepath as he faced him and propped his hands on his hips. He had known that Soundwave was going to fetch his former leader, but it still hadn't prepared him for the exceedingly nervous feeling that crept into his spark when he saw the mech.

The Seeker's optics darted to Soundwave's side, brightening in both caution and curiosity as he took in the imposing visage of the very mech he _hadn't_ wanted to see.

Megatron was as intimidating as ever, still as unbelievably tall and powerful as he remembered him. His strong, broad frame was tense with what Starscream could only assume was anger, but even with that little observation he couldn't stop himself from staring…from studying. Megatron himself looked very different from the war-torn tyrant that Starscream had last seen, but at the same time he was so _familiar_. He stared at the larger mech with no small amount of interest, optics wandering over every inch of the Decepticon emperor's frame and appraising what he saw.

Megatron, like his city and his fortress, had changed for the better. Well, in Starscream's opinion at least.

The mech stood before him in all the glory of his bygone days as a gladiator, powerful frame painted with the same intricate and awe-inspiring designs that the Seeker remembered so well. He chanced a look up into those burning crimson optics, catching Megatron's angry gaze before slowly moving down to observe the smoldering streaks of red paint upon his sculptured cheekplates.

His mind wandered back to first time he had ever seen Megatron…the ground-bound mech's massive black hands ripping the spark straight out of his opponent's chest in the pits of Kaon's arena. Starscream had been mesmerized by the sheer amount of ruthlessness and determination in those fiery optics, piercing into his defeated and battered foe even after the battle had already been won, those long scarlet markings making it seem as if all of his unfathomable rage was pouring forth into his victim without reprise. And when he had been satisfied with his kill, standing to an eruption of the crowd roaring and chanting his name as if he were some deity, it had only captivated Starscream more to see him take off the helmet he wore, revealing the numerous miners panels sprouting from his helm like a crown beneath.

The very same panels that were revealed to him now, once again, as Megatron stood eyeing him with barely-contained suspicion and annoyance.

It dawned on Starscream rather quickly that he had been staring silently at the mech, and he could make a logical guess that his former leader was none-too-appreciative of being so blatantly appraised. With a quiet cough to clear his throat he soon spoke up, even if his voice came out sounding a lot more soft and nervous than he intended. "Megatron…" He breathed, tone laced with quiet animosity, "What a…_pleasant_ surprise."

The silver mech narrowed his optics when his name left the Seeker's lips, and before Starscream could stop himself fear briefly lit his features. Even after all these vorns he still couldn't stop his body from reacting to even the smallest of Megatron's actions, conditioned as he was to expect pain from the larger mech.

His wings swept low on his back out of the unconscious need to protect them should things get out of hand, and Megatron almost laughed. He had long ago come to recognize what each position of Starscream's wings meant, and if memory served him correctly then he knew that when they were positioned down, the flier felt threatened and fearful. And in truth, Starscream had every right to be afraid of him, especially now.

He glared a bit more menacingly at the smaller mech, relishing the look of uncertainty and edginess that crept onto the Seeker's pretty face as he stood rooted to his spot a short distance away.

Far be it from him to put Starscream's mind at ease, after all he had done the traitorous little brat deserved to fear him, to feel as he would be reprimanded the same way he had been so many vorns ago.

Megatron would have gladly let into him, would have made a grab for those silky white wings and twisted and torn until Starscream was crying and begging him for mercy…for _forgiveness_. But he knew that he couldn't do that. Things didn't work the way they used to, and Starscream wasn't a citizen of his empire. Even though he had come here of his own free will – without clearance – and broken into _his_ palace, if Megatron were to harm him in any way it would be considered a capital offense in the optics of northern law. And, while Megatron himself couldn't be subject to punishment by his neighboring empire, he knew that Starscream was Prime's little _pet_. He had heard the rumors, had even seen part of the infuriating display of affection firsthand…and knowing what he did, the Decepticon emperor wasn't willing to take any chances.

Primus knew Optimus would be furious if anything were to befall his beloved little Seeker.

Still, Starscream had once belonged to him, whether he knew it or not, and the temptation to at least make him squirm in fear and apprehension the way he used to was too strong to resist.

Megatron stepped away from Soundwave and closer to his former second, optics burning into him in thought as he trailed his gaze from helm to pedes, and slowly back up again. His heavy pedefalls made Starscream flinch as he drew neared to him, and try as he might, the Seeker couldn't school his expression into something even remotely calm.

"I would ask why you are here," Megatron growled, pinning his 'guest' with a look of cold scrutiny, "However, I'm in no mood for your lies."

Starscream glared balefully at him as the insult registered, lips pulling back into a decidedly indignant snarl. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but Megatron was quick to cut him off.

"There's no point in arguing with me, Starscream. Whatever your reasons for being here, I would suggest you forget them and leave." His countenance betrayed nothing, the roaring cacophony of turbulent emotions warring in his spark remaining safely hidden behind a mask of anger. It wouldn't due to let the Seeker know just how much his unexpected presence was affecting him.

Starscream ex-vented haughtily and crossed his arms over his scintillating golden canopy, cherry hips canting to the side in an obvious display of irritation. "My business isn't with you!" He hissed acidly before jerking his chin in Soundwave's direction. "I came here seeking help from him." His bright optics searched the telepath over for any sign of discomfort, any sign that he would finally be fed up with the situation and choose to help end this…whatever it was.

But Soundwave, true to form, remained ever silent.

Megatron growled low in his throat, looming over the Seeker and fighting the urge to backhand him for his insolence and the Primus-damned stubbornness that he had missed for so long now. He didn't know whether to feel relieved at being in a situation like this after having craved the small, irritating flier's presence for so many vorns now, or to be enraged at how ridiculously arrogant and hard-helmed the younger mech was being.

In the end, he decided he didn't mind as much as he was making Starscream believe he did.

"Soundwave is _my_ subordinate, Starscream. If you have need of his assistance, then it would be wise to try and convince me to allow him to help you…" He explained slowly, deep voice rolling through the room like thunder. "And so far, I see no reason to."

Starscream's expression only grew darker. "Your _subordinate_?" He scoffed, "The last I checked you were an emperor, not a militaristic, war-mongering brute. I do believe the correct term would have been _subject_; not that someone of your ignorant background would know. And besides, Soundwave isn't a slave. If he wanted to help me then you couldn't force him not to!" Point made, he pierced his former commander with the most steely gaze he could manage, small frame tense with irritated-uncertainty and helm held high.

Megatron had almost interjected at the insult to his 'ignorant background,' having not expected the younger mech to take such a cheap shot at one's origins. But then again, it _was_ Starscream, and he had never known the Seeker to be particularly careful about what he said to anyone.

All he could manage to do was scowl fiercely down at the egotistic little brat, wondering when Starscream's old instincts would kick in and quell his haughty backtalking. "Subordinate or subject, either way Soundwave serves me, Starscream. He won't help you – even if he did want to – because unlike you he knows something of _loyalty_…" He paused to let that sink in, watching as Starscream flinched.

_Oh great_, the Seeker thought idly to himself, _I_ _knew this was coming_…

"You see, I took great care to instill the utmost sense of respect into my soldiers. Not only for me, but for themselves, for the Decepticon cause. A cause that you so willingly abandoned." Megatron continued, "While I'll admit that The War dragged on for far longer than I planned, once I had rightful rule over Kaon and its neighboring, _suffering_, states, I was able to do as I had originally intended. Mechs who served under me during The War saw their homelands restored, their families and friends justified, and most importantly, their hardships ended. Soundwave's home was among those that found renewal and–"

"Oh for Primus's sake, stop!" Starscream snapped, "I've heard enough of your glorified campaigning to last me ten lifecycles. What's your point?"

Megatron, though irritated with the Seeker's interruption, was about to offer a scathing reply when Soundwave answered for him.

"Soundwave; grateful for Lord Megatron's assistance in restoring neglected cities. Starscream; will receive no assistance unless deemed necessary by Lord Megatron." He droned, monotonous voice sending surges of white-hot anger streaming through Starscream's processor.

How could that malfunctioning _glitch_ be so obnoxiously sycophantic?! He had offered him an untold amount of credits for a breem's worth of help and the ungrateful waste of processing power had turned him down so easily. And for what? Because Megatron was holding onto some petty grudge? Because he was too intelligence-deficient to think and act on his own?

Primus, he was not in the mood for this…

All he needed was five kliks of the moron's time. Just five! Was that so much to ask?

With a hopeless sigh Starscream turned to look back out over the balcony, optics catching sight of the simulated aurora and following each individual color as he thought.

Megatron watched him, spark pulsing wildly in its chamber. When Kaon's reconstruction had been underway, he had carefully planned the placement and material for which each building was to be reformatted with, and all for one specific purpose. He had remembered hearing Starscream speak fondly of the atmospheric lightshow that had played out in Earth's sky, and while he had insulted the Seeker during The War for admiring anything about the filthy planet, after Starscream had left…

Well, once everything had calmed and he felt he would never see the Seeker again, he had found that he just couldn't get the thought of him out of his head. And so, as he had had his city rebuilt, he orchestrated the creation of Cybertron's own aurora. While the Constructicons and their assembled teams of workers had thought nothing of it at the time, once the city was complete and the grand sight of its lights reflecting into the sky by way of the dark glass of its skyscrapers became visible, everyone in Kaon was stricken with awe.

To the people, it was a symbol of the greatness and benevolence of their emperor. To Megatron, it was a constant reminder of the Seeker he had driven away.

He watched the writhing colors so far above them play over Starscream's dark face, those bright, expressive optics taking in the beautiful phenomenon of his creation with something akin to admiration and longing. For a split second Megatron almost wanted to tell the Seeker that he had done it for him…that he had made it to remind himself every cycle of the mistake he had made, and to try and recreate something as beautiful and untouchable as the flier himself.

But he held back, mouth firmly shut and processor flashing different accusatory thoughts at him. _He_ hadn't been the one to make a mistake! Starscream had left on his own accord, because he was a conniving little traitor, and _not_ because he had done anything to drive him away.

As he stood there brooding, he neglected to think that the Seeker might actually have more to say. In all honesty, he had expected him to get frustrated and leave. But he didn't, instead he spoke, gaze still riveted to the colorful sky.

"I should have known this was a lost cause," He said quietly, his new voice laced with soft disappointment and no small amount of…pain?

Megatron almost couldn't believe it. What had he done to make Starscream sound so hurt? Surely the Seeker couldn't think he was being unjust with his decision not to allow Soundwave to help him with whatever insignificant little problem he had. After all, the fool had crossed into _his_ empire without permission, broken into _his_ domain, and then had the audacity to try and bribe _his_ 'subject' into assisting him! How could the flier possibly be hurt over something as justified as a simple denial of services?

He certainly didn't deserve the help after everything he had done.

Megatron growled, an inexplicable guiltiness rising to war with the anger in his spark. "What 'lost cause' are you talking about Starscream? You should have known that you'd find no help among us after what you did!" He spat.

Starscream's wings fanned out stiffly behind him, previously disheartened expression gone in an instant to be replaced with unchecked fury. "I did what I had to, to end The War!" He shot back just as acidly, small frame visibly shaking with the indignity of his former leader's ignorant accusation.

Megatron was far from letting go of his grudge, however. "You didn't _have_ to defect!" He roared, storming closer to the lithe mech to loom over him. Their chests brushed, and the contact only spurred him on, rage blinding his better senses. "You could have come to me with your plan for restoring Cybertron, but you didn't!"

"Because you wouldn't have listened to me!" Starscream cut him off with an enraged shriek of his own, sky-blue hands gesticulating wildly. "You would have taken the energy converter and used it to keep The War going, to suit your own greedy purposes! I went to Optimus because, unlike you, he isn't a self-centered, bloodthirsty aft!" He glared up at the ground-bound mech, as if daring him to try and argue that point.

But Megatron didn't deny that he would have indeed used the converter for his own goals, instead he ignored that subject altogether. "You went to Prime because you're a treacherous little whore!" He snapped, taking in Starscream's surprised and offended look of shock. "Don't think I didn't notice him pawing you during the peace meetings! And don't think I haven't heard the rumors about what goes on between you two behind closed doors!"

The Seeker looked mortified that he had even had the nerve to bring that up, his optics wide with disbelief and outrage. "For your information _nothing_ has happened between me and Optimus! But if that's the excuse you've been giving yourself to lessen the sting of being such an insufferable, intemperate, _worthless_ leader then by all means, keep living in your deluded fantasy land!" With a final glare at his former commander he pushed himself away from the mech, fully intending to see himself out and get back to Iacon where he was actually appreciated for what he had done to bring their planet back to its Golden Age.

However, before he could get too far, Megatron seized him roughly by the arm, his massive black hand squeezing hard and bringing him back to stand in front of him. "I did what I could considering the limited resources we had at our disposal, Starscream. It wasn't me who was a worthless leader, it was _you_ who was a worthless second-in-command! Your duty was to stand by me no matter what, and instead you left me for him!" The Decepticon emperor growled, voice dangerously low.

His fiery optics pierced into those of his former second's, pinning the smaller mech with a look that sent tremors up his spinal relays. Starscream remained completely still, caught somewhere between wanting to yank his arm free and telling Megatron to frag off, and falling to his knees to beg for mercy before the pain inevitably started.

But he resisted the urge to do both, fighting the instinctual need to pull free and the conditioned response to pander submissively to the larger mech until his anger subsided. Instead, he caught himself hanging onto the last part of what Megatron had said. He was angry because he had _left_ him for Optimus…? He was angry because had had _left_ him…

Suddenly, the look that Megatron had given him in the hallway so many vorns ago was making sense.

The very same look that had haunted his dreams and kept him up at night, so turbulent and unfathomable, was now crystal clear in its meaning.

Megatron…_felt_ something for him. Or at least, he did.

Now, though…well, while the larger mech was certainly making a spectacle of himself by acting so blatantly angry and jealous over his and Optimus's budding – if not non-existent – relationship, Starscream wasn't sure that there was any of the previous emotion visible in his optics anymore.

He almost started laughing at that thought, because truly, it was hysterical. Megatron, the great and powerful ruler of the Decepticon empire, his former leader and the mech that _despised_ him to no end, had _feelings_ for him? Again he almost couldn't help but laugh, if not because of that shocking revelation, then because Megatron and 'feelings' just weren't something he would ever have thought could exist together willingly.

But then again, the mech was obviously upset over more than just his defection. He was genuinely stung by the fact that he had chosen Optimus over him.

And that encounter in the hall…that look filled with a maelstrom of uncertain, confused, and utterly _raw_ emotions…there was no mistaking that. Even if he had managed to remain oblivious for all this time, there was definitely no denying it now.

As he looked up at Megatron he was surprised to find that same searing gaze boring into him, those fiery optics catching and holding his own effortlessly. He couldn't stop the bewildered expression that crept onto his face anymore than he could stop his own spark from fluctuating wildly in its chamber.

"Is that what this is all about?" He asked carefully, his own disbelief bleeding into his voice. "You've been mad at me for leaving you – for doing what was right! – because you think that I…" He trailed off, not being able to finish that sentence as he caught the brief flash of regret and uncertainty that passed through his ex-leader's optics.

Without giving the mech time to explain himself he pulled his arm free, shaking his helm as if he was severely disappointed. He backed away quickly, brow ridges furrowed and lips parted as if he might say something, before averting his gaze altogether. "I can't believe you…" He breathed, voice barely audible, even to himself.

Megatron almost looked as if he'd been struck by the words, the regal-looking panels on his helm lowering only slightly in what Starscream interpreted as dejection. While he stood there, trying desperately to regain control of the situation and preserve his dignity, the Seeker began to make his way determinedly to the open doors of his throne room.

Soundwave didn't attempt to stop him, merely turning his masked face in the flier's direction as he passed, and Megatron almost panicked.

He turned and pushed the blue mech roughly out of his way, his long, purposeful strides quickly allowing him to catch up with Starscream before he could make it out of the room. He once again grabbed the smaller mech's arm, forcing him to stop and look at him.

"Wait," Was all he could manage to get out at first, his processor racing with different things to say to salvage the situation. He couldn't let Starscream leave here, not like this…not when he could find a way to make the Seeker see that he was better than Prime; that he really _had_ made a mistake when he had defected, and not just because he had betrayed his faction.

Primus – or fate, more likely – had given him a chance to make things right, and he'd be damned if he let his Seeker get away again. "Where do you think you're going?" He inquired a bit icily, deep voice giving off the impression that he was still angry even as a smirk tugged at his lips.

Starscream frowned relentlessly up at him, obviously not amused by whatever strange methods his former leader was using to toy with him. "I'm going back to Iacon," He hissed, trying in vain to pull his arm free again, "Since I'm obviously not going to get any help from you and your aft-kissing drone!"

Both mechs could see Soundwave stiffen at the insult in the periphery of their vision, but neither took the time to care.

Megatron felt a plan of his own beginning to formulate in his processor, and he couldn't stop himself from feeling decidedly pleased as he stared down at the trapped mech in his grasp. "Oh? And what if I agreed to let Soundwave help you with your problem, would you be so quick to return to Iacon then?" He asked, watching Starscream's expression flit from thoroughly displeased to suddenly hopeful.

Though he wouldn't deny the sudden rush of intense hope and happiness that flared through his spark, the Seeker wasn't completely convinced. He narrowed his optics at the Decepticon emperor, tilting his helm to the side in thought and suspicion. "What are you playing at, Megatron?" He asked carefully.

Megatron did nothing but gesture to his communication's officer, offering Starscream a calculating but genuine smile. "I'm not 'playing' at anything, Starscream. I'll allow Soundwave to assist you with whatever dilemma you've gotten yourself into, if only because I feel it will do you good to see how _unselfish_ I can be." He said calmly, determined to make a point.

He passed a glance to Soundwave, making sure that the telepath had no problem with what he decided, before looking out over his balcony and taking note of how calm the aurora-tinged sky was. "I'm afraid, however, that any assistance will have to wait until tomorrow."

Starscream's hopeful expression disappeared in an instant, his brow ridges furrowing in confusion as he looked up at his former leader. "Tomorrow? But I –"

"Had the misfortune of arriving late in the night-cycle, Starscream." Megatron interrupted him, his gaze turning serene as he watched his Seeker contemplate what he had just been told. Starscream paused, no doubt checking his internal chronometer, before glancing at the floor.

"Oh," He said sheepishly, unsure of what to do. "I suppose I'll just come back tomorrow, then." He looked out at the open expanse of the balcony and to the city below, trying to think of whether he should find a hotel to stay in or just go drown himself and his worries at the first bar he came across.

It seemed that neither would be an option for him, however.

Megatron, who still had a firm grip on his arm, nodded dismissively to Soundwave before turning on his heel and steering Starscream from the room. As they exited into the empty hall just outside, Megatron loosened his grip just enough to allow the Seeker to feel more comfortable. "There will be no need to come back tomorrow, because you will not have left in the first place." He told the winged mech, catching his confused expression out of the corner of his optic.

Starscream frowned at that, rolling his optics as they continued down the winding halls of Darkmount's interior. "And where exactly will I be staying, then?" He asked skeptically, "I highly doubt that you have an abundance of guest rooms for occasions such as this."

Megatron didn't seem to think that that observation was worth commenting on, and after they had turned a few more corners and walked the dimly-lit expanses of many more halls, he finally stopped in front of a door in what used to be the wing of Darkmount that housed the soldiers' quarters.

Starscream guessed that this area still served the same purpose, considering that all along the halls there were more doors.

He sighed and looked up at his former leader, obviously unamused. "Am I to assume that this is where I'll be spending the night?" He inquired blandly, voice quiet with exhaustion. It seemed that the trip here and all the accumulated stress was finally catching up to him.

Megatron smirked at the Seeker, staring down at the lithe mech and taking in the sight of his pretty face, those tired, hooded optics, his twitching wings…he suddenly wished that Starscream would have come seeking Soundwave's help for whatever reason sooner. Not that he would ever admit it.

He glanced once at the door and then back to Starscream, passing a devious look of amusement to the flier even though he tried to hide it. "I think you'll find it will do rather nicely." He said in as sincere a tone as he could manage.

Starscream only seemed to be even more doubtful at that, but he didn't argue. And for that, Megatron was grateful.

He used the grip he had on the smaller mech's arm to pull him closer, his chestplates coming into contact with the smooth, warm glass of Starscream's canopy. The Seeker let out a startled gasp in surprise, but he didn't pull away. Megatron pulled at the flier's arm carefully, allowing his hand to slide down until he caught Starscream's wrist, waiting and watching for the reaction he knew was coming.

Starscream's wide, bright optics flew up to meet his, finding the same indiscernible, turbulent mix of emotions in Megatron's that had been captivating and confusing him since the first – and last – time they had met like this.

His lips parted as he thought of saying something, anything, but he found that for once he was completely speechless. Powerless under that gaze.

The Decepticon emperor smirked down at him contentedly, admiring the way that Starscream still stayed silent, his expressive features forming an almost endearing mask of confusion and awe. He allowed his hand to slide down once more, catching the Seeker's small blue hand in his own massive ebony one, and keeping it there.

Starscream's wings twitched faintly at the intimacy of their current position, chestplates pressed flush against each other, optics locked, his former leader possessively holding his hand…Primus, it was just like their encounter in the Decagon all over again. And yet this time, it was so much _more_.

Megatron leaned in close to him, his paint-streaked face almost close enough to come into contact with Starscream's own, but he stopped just short of the Seeker's quivering lips. "Tomorrow, before Soundwave is to help you with whatever brought you here, I wish to speak with you, Starscream, on a very important matter." He held Starscream's optics even as the smaller mech visibly tensed at that, mind racing with what could possibly be so important as to warrant a personal talk between them.

The Seeker managed to tear his gaze away from that of his former leader's for a split second, optics wandering over the ground-bound mech's sculptured face, strong jaw line, those angry crimson streaks of paint on his cheekplates, and finally those thin but shapely lips. Though one end of Megatron's mouth was curved upwards in an infuriatingly smug smirk, Starscream didn't think he had ever seen a pair of lips he wanted to kiss more in his entire lifecycle. And with Megatron being so close…

He leaned forward unconsciously, his spark pushing him into action when his mind would not, and tilted his helm for better access.

Megatron watched stoically, pleased with the reaction even if it hadn't been the one he was expecting; and yet, as much as he wanted to indulge the Seeker – and in part, himself – he pulled away just before Starscream's lips met his own.

Now was not the time to lose sight of his goals, and he hadn't exactly overlooked the fact that he and Starscream had been arguing vehemently mere breems ago. It wouldn't due to look unstable in front of the flier, and while he could take his time and begin setting his plan into motion, he had no intention of letting himself fall through with it until the time was right. And right now, even though Starscream seemed to be responding so well to him, it was not.

When he had pulled away from him a look of surprise and disappointment had flashed briefly across the Seeker's face, a dejected expression forming on those lovely features that made even Megatron second-guess his motives for denying him. But Starscream was nothing if not resilient, and before his mood could match his countenance, he schooled his expression into one of aloof composure, glancing at the door that he and Megatron had been standing in front of.

He cleared his throat and nodded in regards to Megatron's earlier statement, acting as if nothing had happened as he consented to whatever it was that his former leader had in mind.

The Decepticon emperor felt himself becoming more and more pleased with Starscream's reaction, and took a moment to revel in the awkward, edgy aura that his Seeker's energy field was giving off, before he finally released the smaller mech's hand.

He spared a glance at the door and lifted a large black hand to it, knocking sharply a few times and taking in Starscream's surprised and baffled expression. Obviously he had expected the room to be empty, and his shocked reaction at finding out that he'd be sharing it with someone was almost too humorous to not laugh at.

But Megatron was a mech with limitless self-control, and as he observed his Seeker's wide-opticked expression of sheer disbelief, he turned and paced down the hall, back from where they came.

"Goodnight, Starscream." He called softly over his shoulder, rounding the corner and disappearing from sight.

Starscream could almost _hear_ him smirking by the tone of his voice, but he suppressed the urge to take off after the mech and show him exactly how unamused he was with this situation.

Though he felt a bit stung at having been denied that kiss, he passed it off as a trick of his mind. There was no way he would've kissed Megatron as it was, he was obviously much more exhausted than he thought…and besides, he had Optimus waiting back in Iacon for him. He couldn't afford to start feeling things for his ex-leader _now_.

Instead, he settled for waiting stiffly in front of the door, expecting to find that when it opened he'd be greeted with Shockwave or someone of similar hideousness.

But when the door slid open he realized far too late why his former leader had led him here, and he didn't think he would have ever wanted to see Shockwave's face –or lack thereof – so bad in his lifecycle.

He stared blankly at the mech before him, wings sweeping down so low on his back that he felt they would snap off at any moment, and the other mech stared blankly back. In the room behind him was another mech, sitting on a berth and peeking eagerly past his mate's obstructing form to see who in their right mind would have come calling at this time of night.

Starscream felt his legs tremble dangerously beneath him, threatening to give out as more stress than he could handle at the moment assaulted his overtaxed spark. He felt like dying…but more than anything, he felt like killing Megatron.

The mech in the doorway gave him a surprised and equally awkward once-over, before bringing his optics up to lock with his in an inquisitive and none-too-friendly gaze. "Starscream…" He ventured, deep voice piercing through the smaller mech's spark as if he'd been shot.

Starscream just continued to stare, unsure of what to do, and for a split second he thought of backing away and darting down the hall to find Megatron, to seek out the easy feeling of comfort and faux-animosity that he'd been reluctantly enjoying mere kliks ago…but even as the thoughts rushed through his processor, he found that he couldn't move, rooted to the spot like a terrified youngling about to be scolded by his creators.

"Thundercracker." He whispered shakily, and his carefully-built walls of control and indifference came crumbling down around him.

* * *

**A/N:** Ugh…long and boring chapter was long and boring.

I really wish I would have done a better job with this one, it didn't come out at all the way I wanted it to, but it will do…I guess.

So this surgery has taken a LOT out of me, turns out my tendon was irreparable so they had to pull another one all the way to the back of my leg and bolt it into the bone. If it sounds painful, it's because it is. I can't walk for a few weeks and have been stuck in a wheelchair, and seeing as how my classes are mostly downhill…Well, it's been fun. And now I have an enormous 7 inch long, 1 inch wide healing incision on the back of my leg…I feel hideous… ='(

But all that aside, the next chapter should be up soon, I'm feeling pretty good about it and have a solid game plan in my head for it, so that's always a plus! Thanks again to all of you who read and enjoy this fic, reviews are greatly appreciated but you don't have to!

I mean…I can't force you to. Not that I would. I would never do that…


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